


How A Star Falls

by Johniarty, Lunavere



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Rockstar, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Child Abuse, Daddy Kink, Developing Relationship, Facials, Fellatio, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Food Sex, Grinding, Groupie John, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Rockstar AU, Singer Jim, Spanking, Teasing, musician au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 112,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johniarty/pseuds/Johniarty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunavere/pseuds/Lunavere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For his seventeenth birthday, John Watson receives the ultimate gift: a ticket and backstage pass to see his idol - Jim Moriarty - live in concert.  Although he's fantasized about meeting him for ages, he never once imagined what would actually come to pass... or the consequences that follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Luna and Ashurha, here! This is our first collab together, and it's finished! Hope you enjoy this as much as we do!

   

 

    John Watson only required three things in his life: books and telly in order to escape the world around him and music to drown out the screams that filled his otherwise empty house.  He spent every night beneath his duvet, with headphones perched over his ears, listening to Blur, Morrissey, Nick Cave, and David Bowie.

    However, he lately began listening to harder music.  Although he knew he would always love the music he used to listen to, it wasn’t quite enough anymore.  He needed something new to connect to.  Something that spoke to his soul in the way that those songs did before he played them over three thousand times.  And then he finally found what he needed in the voice of Jim Moriarty.

    There was something haunting about the songs spun from his soft lips and sharp tongue.  He sang of loss, of death, of blood, and flames, and lust, and John Watson couldn't get enough.  Sometimes, he wondered if he ever would.  Even so, he hung posters, bought shirts, and brought up his love for the man's music at every possible opportunity. His parents hated it for obvious reasons, but his sister Harriet found it endearing.  Of course, John knew that she understood why he required such an outlet.

    “Happy Birthday, John!” Harriet announced as John trudged down the stairs.

    “Surprise!” several people yelled, jumping out of their hiding places.

    John was startled awake but pleasantly surprised at seeing everyone there.  After all, his parents weren’t exactly big on birthdays, so he hadn’t been expecting anything at all save for maybe a few presents.  “Mike!  Sarah!  Tom!” he called out happily before hurrying to hug them.  “This _is_ a surprise!”

    “Your sister invited us over to celebrate,” Mike informed him.

    Smiling at his sister, John hugged her, too.  “Thank you,” he whispered.

    “You’d do the same for me,” she replied.

    And it was true. John wasn’t sure if it was because of how close they were in age or if circumstances forced it, but he and Harriet were remarkably close for siblings.  Each of them had their issues, but they banded together more times than not.  And frankly, John wasn’t sure if he could have made it a full seventeen years without her by his side.

    “We brought you a cake,” Sarah called out, pointing at the counter.  “Custom-made with Jim Moriarty’s face printed on it.”

    John laughed merrily when he heard that.  All of them knew of John’s love for Moriarty’s music.  How could they not, what with being his closest friends?  Heading over, John examined the cake and found it did, indeed, have a picture of Jim Moriarty’s face on the top.

    “The part that _you_ want isn’t there,” Harriet teased quietly, causing John’s face to turn a bit red.

    “Shut up!”

    “Do you like it?” Sarah inquired nervously.

    Turning, John pulled her back into another hug.  “I _love_ it,” he informed her.  “Thank you so much for getting it for me.”

    “We were going to bring candles, but someone forgot,” Mike said before staring pointedly at Tom.

    Tom scratched the back of his neck nervously.  “Y-yeah,” he mumbled before kicking at the ground.  “I might have been a bit late leaving this morning and may or may not have forgotten candles.”

    “It’s alright,” John replied reassuringly.  “I’ll be happy enough just to eat it!”

    Harriet already began to carve into the cake.  “Birthday boy gets the first slice,” she announced before handing John a plate.  Jim’s lips were on it, and John fought the urge to glare at her.

    Quickly, he grabbed a fork and carefully stabbed a piece off before plopping it into his mouth.  The chocolate was far richer than he was expecting, and the cake was still fluffy and moist.  “It’s delicious!  Thank you!”

    The rest of them were given a piece as well.  Mike got the left eye, Sarah the right, and Tom the nose.  For herself, Harry took out a chunk of Jim’s forehead.  For a long time, no one spoke, each of them far too engrossed in enjoying his or her piece of cake.  When Harriet finished her piece, she said, “I’m just going to get this all boxed up for later.”

    John knew what she really meant was: “I’m going to box this up and hide it underneath your bed so our parents don’t see it and ask questions.”

    “Alright.  The rest of us will go watch telly for a bit,” John suggested.

    Mike tilted his head.  “What?  You don’t even want to open your presents?”

    “I… have presents?” John inquired, shocked and slightly ashamed.  He hadn’t expected any because he could never afford to give them anything.  Again and again, he turned away birthday invitations because he felt it was bad form to show up without a gift.

    Sarah chided, “Of course you have presents!  Here, open mine first.”

    John was presented with a box in silver, sparkly wrapping paper.  He grinned before tearing into it and discovering a pair of new headphones.  “Oh, my God, they’re perfect!”

    “You were telling me last week that you thought yours were about to bite the dust,” Sarah said.

    “And they are!  One side keeps going in and out,” John insisted before giving her a hug.

    Tom thrust forward a gift bag that was clearly Christmas themed and haphazardly filled with tissue paper.  Taking it, John pulled out the tissue paper in tuffs and began to laugh when he saw what was inside.  “Is this mine or a new one?” he inquired, pulling out a copy of _The Silmarillion_.  He had lent Tom his copy last year for Lit class, which Tom then promptly lost.

    “New one,” Tom responded, his cheeks flushing a touch.  “That’s not it, though.”

    Curious, John reached inside and found a vinyl of Moriarty’s latest album.  An added apology, no doubt, for having lost his novel.  “This is fantastic!” he exclaimed, happy to get anything related to Moriarty.  He wasn’t sure if he should give Tom a hug as well, but when Tom began to shift uncomfortably, John figured he might as well give it a shot.  He pulled Tom down for a hug and felt him tense for a moment before hugging him back.

    “I’m glad you like them,” he murmured before standing up straight.

    Mike held out his gift next.  It was wrapped as well, although clearly by a store, given that it was beautifully done with a bow on top.  Mike wouldn’t have been able to manage that with someone coaching him the whole way.  Tearing into the white wrapping paper, John pulled out the complete series of “Red Dwarf” on DVD.  “I’ve been wanting this for months!” he exclaimed merrily.

    “I know.  That’s why I bought it for you,” Mike responded.

    “Thank you!”  By now, John was comfortable with the thought of hugging Mike.  Leaning forward, he pulled him into a hug.  “It’s brilliant.”

    When he pulled back, he found Harriet had returned from her mission.  “Look at what I got!” John exclaimed, holding out his gifts for her to see.

    “Impressive stuff,” Harriet concurred.  “But I’m afraid that’s not all you’re getting.”  With that, she produced an envelope.

    John smiled knowingly and took it.  Neither he nor Harriet ever had much spare money to throw around, but they always managed to get a card and gift card.  Earlier that year, John had broken that tradition by saving up all of his money so Harriet could afford petrol.  Both of them knew that her car was her lifeline.  Now, he was curious as to what she had gotten her.  He hoped beyond hope that it would be a gift card to his favourite band merchandise store.  Just last week, he saw a new Moriarty T-shirt he wanted to buy.

    Gingerly, he opened up the envelope and looked inside to find two slips of paper.  His heart stopped as he noticed the first one.  Pulling it out, he found a concert ticket for Jim Moriarty’s upcoming London performance.  His breathing stopped for a moment as his mind reeled.  “But… but these tickets sold out in an hour.”

    “I know,” Harriet responded cheekily.

    John was elated beyond words.  He had never thought that he would ever get to experience one of Jim Moriarty’s performances live.  It was too much money, for one.  But for another, tickets were in terribly high demand.  “Thank you so much!  Oh, my God.  I just… thank you!”

    “Don’t thank me yet!” Harriet said before jabbing at the envelope.

    The second piece of paper.  John had forgotten all about it, although he doubted his sister could really blame him for that fact.  He reached inside and carefully fished it out.  It was white on one side, so he flipped it over to see what it was.  His heart stopped.

    "Backstage pass," she said, flashing him a cocky grin. "Thought you might like to meet your idol."

    John crushed her to his chest with a bark of delight, unable to stop laughing. "God, thank you! Thank you, Harry!"

    "You can pay me back by doing all my chores for a month.”

    “Of course,” John breathed out, still shocked by what he was seeing.  He couldn’t believe that he was actually holding a backstage pass to see _Jim Moriarty_.  “Oh, my God.”

    Harriet grinned.  “I went through a lot of pains to get these for you, baby brother.  Use them wisely.”

    “I will.  I promise.”

    There were still two days until the show.  Even though he knew that should be “only,” he couldn’t help but feel like two days were an eternity away.  But he could make it... he hoped.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The concert is more than John could have possibly hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters for this beautiful beast are going to be long and spaced out, as a warning. We're only posting this one so soon due to how short the intro is. However, you can now see why this is going to have to be evenly paced. This chapter's over 10k words, and many of the following chapters are as well. :)

    Harriet was being almost suspiciously kind.  The night of Moriarty’s concert, she packed John into her ugly grey Astra and drove him to the venue. She even let him play the album Tom bought him. Harriet Watson tended to keep a tight control on her stereo, but not tonight.

    “You’ll have to catch the Tube back. I’ve got a date, and I’m not sure when I’ll be home.”

    “Ah, _there’s_ the ulterior motive,” John teased. “Who is it this time? Audrey? Jenna? Clara?”

    “Not that it’s any of your _business_ ,” Harriet shot back, “but Clara. I’ve got a good feeling about her.”

    John grinned. Harriet met Clara at a coffee shop and gushed about her for hours, describing her as a “pretty brunette with burnished amber eyes and a smile that caught the sun.” She _was_ beautiful and friendly, and John missed her visits, but Harry couldn’t bring her by anymore. Their father would have snapped. However, it was clear that Clara was part of the reason Harry had become so kind. Clara was making her a better woman.

    “I hope it goes well,” John said, smiling at her. “And I hope you - um…”

    Harriet cackled with delight.  “I hope you ‘um,’ too, John.”  They pulled up in front of the concert hall, and Harriet pulled him into a hug.  “Be safe, alright? I know this place doesn’t serve alcohol, but some people… you know.  They bring their own recreation, yeah?  Be careful.  If some drunk arsehole bothers you, call the cops.  Don’t risk a stabbing. Might put a damper on your big day.”

    “Yeah, yeah.  I know.  I’ll be careful.  No bleeding out before I get home - got it.”

    He gave her a peck on the cheek and slid out of the car, clutching his passes in his hand.  Slowly, he made his way through the throng of smokers outside, waiting for the doors to officially open. John joined the queue and hung his backstage pass around his neck. It was hard to stay still despite the nice weather and warm summer breeze, and John kept shifting on his feet and checking his phone every five minutes. He could barely discern the conversations going on around him, what with his heart was pounding in his ears. Everyone was animated, talking in pairs or groups, and he realized he was one of the only people there alone. Being alone _should’ve_ bothered him. Couples stood hand in hand, groups of teenagers younger than him huddled in clusters and gossiped about their friends, and parents stood watch over eager children. To John, though, being alone at the show felt more intimate. He could ignore everything else and focus on Moriarty and his music without guilt.

    At half past eight, the doors finally swung open, and the staff began to collect their tickets. John handed his to the redhead at his entrance and flashed her a smile.  She raised her eyebrows in response.  “Backstage pass, huh? After the show, one of the guards will show you to the waiting area.  Have your things out and ready to be signed.”

    “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “I will.”

    She waved him through, and an usher showed him to his seat. All that was left was the wait. There were no other acts booked before Moriarty himself.  He’d be on stage for three hours, close enough that John would be able to see everything in clear detail. People began to file in around him, filling the three rows in front of him before spreading out beside and behind him. Voices buzzed and chattered, filling the room with a monotonous hum. Most of the conversations seemed to be about Jim Moriarty.

_“ -the water!  Oh, my God.  Samantha told me he gets drenched, and his shirt-”_

_“ -absolutely hates him!  Told me he was going to burn my posters. He didn’t, of course.  He just screamed some more about how Moriarty’s ‘the Devil,’ and he’s corrupting-”_

_“-this little leather vest, barely covers his stomach. He’s got this trail of hair!  Such a fucking tease, Jenny.  You’re going to scream-”_

    Boring. John didn’t mind sitting silently as he waited. He tuned out the girls on his left and closed his eyes. It was the calm before the storm. Soon, though, Moriarty would be there, and the peace would turn to chaos.

    The room went black to mask Jim’s arrival, and the crowd gasped and giggled in their excitement.

* * *

    When Jim Moriarty became a rock star, he knew more or less what was in store for him: money, fame, glory, screaming fans, probably a few stalkers, some issues with the paparazzi, and the ability to do whatever he wanted with basically whomever he wanted.  What he didn’t realise was just how much energy he was going to spend in becoming a rock star.  He had to start off at the smaller venues, just as everyone else, and work his way up to catching a break.  Luckily, his father - a well-grounded, realistic businessman - happened to know an agent.  He pulled one string to help Jim and asked this acquaintance to listen to a demo tape.  At the time, the deal was: if the agent liked it, Jim could continue his career plan to be a singer.  If he didn’t, Jim would have to settle on Plan B: becoming a solicitor.

    Luckily, the agent saw Jim’s promise and began to contact recording companies in hopes of finding someone who would help Jim make his dream come true.  There were, of course, conditions.  The first one was to embrace his last name.  “Moriarty” became his on-stage persona - a darker version of Jim, more or less, with a slightly better taste in fashion and a penchant for leather.  The second one was that his life now belonged in the hands of his manager.  If he was required to go onto _Nevermind the Buzzcocks_ in order to spread word about his new album, he would do it.  If he had to wake up at six in the morning in order to speak on a morning news show, he would do it.  If he needed to stay up until 3AM schmoozing, he would do that as well.

    Of course, these were all things that Jim hadn’t particularly thought about beforehand.  Now, they were normal.  It wasn’t surprising anymore to wake up and know that today was going to be a long one.  It also was no longer disappointing to know that he was going to be in London for two or three days and not have any time to sightsee.  Between makeup, hair, costume, warm-ups, rehearsal, the performance, the backstage meet-and-greet, and whatever after party or celebration he might attend, he had just enough time to sleep for a bit before starting it all over again.

    Even so, Jim never once complained.  He knew that it was worth every exhausting moment.  He was providing an outlet for people who had no other way to unleash their emotions.  There were plenty of strangers out there who felt alone and alienated, unsure if they were the only ones who were so conflicted.  Jim let them know that they weren’t alone.  Not only that, but he helped them find other like-minded individuals.  There was a power in fandom that parents had yet to even begin to understand, but Jim had seen for himself.  Once, on his birthday, a video was sent in with a collection of fans wishing him a “Happy Birthday,” and some even got an opportunity to thank him for having a huge influence in their lives.

    Jim had never felt more humbled.

    Of course, he didn’t act under entirely selfless reasons.  He needed an outlet as well.  Writing songs had always proved to be the perfect way for him to vent everything that he was too scared to say to those who needed to hear it.  All of his frustrations, depression, and insecurities sounded so pretty with the proper melody and rhythm.  Even now, he used his songs to work through confusing and sometimes conflicting emotions.

    Sucking in a deep breath, Jim closed his eyes and began to tap his foot to the beat of the music playing in his mind.  The moment before stepping out was always the most charged.  The fans were all waiting for him, screaming in excitement as the dimming lights signalled his imminent arrival on stage.  The electricity in the atmosphere was almost tangible, and his heart began to race.  Opening up his eyes, he took in another breath to calm himself.  Everything would be fine.  And if it wasn’t, the fans wouldn't think any less of him.  That’s what he always told himself whenever he got the jitters.  And every time, it proved to be true.

    He finally stepped out onto the stage, although no one could see him due to the lights being off, and waited as the lights slowly brightened to reveal his form.  Immediately, the crowd roared in celebration, and he was blown away.  Adrenaline surged through his veins, and he couldn’t keep himself from smiling.  This is what he lived for.  The sound of strangers who were brought together by his music… by _him_.  They didn’t even know each other, but they would come together as one for tonight.  They would press close together, cheer together, and sing together.  It was always the most beautiful sight that one could see.  And Jim had the privilege of not just seeing it, but being its cause.

    John watched transfixed as the lights slowly rose, flooding the stage with brilliant light. He had gotten lucky, as no one taller than John had managed to purchase the spots in front of him. He turned his eyes up and drank in the sight of Jim Moriarty, dressed in tight dark jeans and a black leather vest. His hair was slicked back against his skull, completing his signature look. John smiled up at the stage, already feeling the electric elation thrumming in his veins. This was it. Jim was real and just a few yards away, and John was going to watch him perform live.

    Grinning, Jim raised his microphone up.  “Greetings, London!” he called out.  The screams in response caused his eyes to widen.  As always, it astounded him how many people came out to see _him_.  How many people knew his name, who he was, could spot him in a crowd, and yet he would never know the vast majority of them.  He bounced slightly in excitement.  “You seem all excited to get started, so why don’t we?”  The screams answered him.  With that, he began to tap his foot and wait for the music to start.

    John's heart raced as the set began. All around him, the crowd screamed and cheered as Jim grinned down at them. John shouted along with them as Jim went into his first song of the evening. The bass shook the speakers, and he could feel it rattling his chest, vibrating through him as the music played. Jim’s voice washed over him, and everything else faded. There was only the performance, only the two of them. Even as the fans shoved and bounced and swelled around him, John was oblivious. He jumped and sang right along with them, though, pumping his arms in the air in time to the drums. It was more than he'd ever hoped for. It was heaven. He was home.

    Jim finished the first song and let out an exhilarated laugh.  The first song was always the hardest for him to get through.  However, by the end of it, he was hotter than he expected to be.  Without warning, he stripped off his leather jacket and tossed it backstage before leaping into the next song.  Although he couldn’t make out most of the faces, he could see the bodies moving, arms thrusting, and the masses unifying as one.  It was a sight that Jim wouldn’t trade for the world.  So many strangers were forgetting about everything for just this moment.  It was absolutely breathtaking.

    John flushed as Jim stripped his top. He was grateful no one would notice among the coloured lights and the sea of faces. He let his eyes trail along Jim’s body, from the dark leather of his boots to the pale, smooth skin of his throat. Jim was gorgeous, and he knew how to drive the crowd wild.

    The lights shut off after the second song, and Jim hesitantly stepped forward a few paces before sitting down.  A spotlight came back on, locking onto him, and he smiled before singing one of his slower ballads.  Languidly, he rocked back and forth.  This had to be one of his favourite moments.  For some reason, whenever he sat down, he felt like he was closer to his fans.  Obviously, he could never get too close.  Time and time again, that fact had been proven.  But he knew that these people, for the most part, were good people.  Some of them would never dream of invading his privacy or harming him.  However, they were always hidden away by those who would cause damage for the sake of meeting him or having bragging rights.

    John held his breath. The stadium had gone almost silent as the fans listened to the soft, slow ballad. The hush was almost tangible. As Jim sang, John turned his face toward the stage and closed his eyes. He wanted to watch, of course, but there was something almost private about simply listening.

    The song came to a soft end.  Without any warning at all, all of the stage lights flashed and began to spiral.  Jim leapt to his feet.  The change always left him with whiplash, but that was supposed to be the effect.  Lull the audience into a peaceful state before revving them right back up.  Let them experience life again, cause the blood to pump through their veins, create a small rush of adrenaline.

    John was jolted out of the moment by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Lights flashed and the music roared. Eyes flying open, he snapped to attention, focusing on Moriarty once more. John’s heart beat faster, and he chanted with the crowd, grinning widely.

    Once that song was over, Jim grabbed his water bottle.  “Are you all enjoying yourselves tonight?” he inquired before gulping down about half of his water.  That was another life skill that becoming a rock star taught him: how to drink a 1.5 litre bottle of water in ten seconds.  As he drank, the uproar gave him his answer.  “I always assume that when you all cheer, you’re meaning to confirm what I have just said.  As opposed to, you know, ‘boo’ing me off the stage,” he jested.

    Jim’s voice was absolutely mesmerizing. His accent, the almost sing-song quality of his speech, and the theatrical way he varied his cadence all drove John mad. He loved listening to him speak even if he _was_ just taking a rest. Working the crowd was fairly easy, at least from John’s perspective. They hung on his every word. So did John, leaning over the seat of the girl in front of him to hear Jim more clearly.

    Fighting back a cough, Jim made a noise in the back of his throat.  He couldn’t let them know how much this tour was wearing him down, after all.  “I must say that I love London immensely.  I know plenty of people say that, and that even more of them don’t mean it, but I never feel like I am here long enough before having to go somewhere else.  So how many of you are actually from London?  Let me hear you scream!”

    The crowd erupted, and John hollered with them. Part of him marveled at Jim’s charisma and how much power he held over his audience.

    “Wow!” Jim remarked with a smile.  “And how many people aren’t from London?”  The next cheer was almost just as loud.  That was far more fascinating to Jim.  People were willing to travel over hundreds of miles to listen to him sing.  Time and time again, he heard of fans who flew hours upon hours in order to experience _his_ music.  Honestly, it gave him quite the buzz.  “Incredible!  Thank you so much for all coming tonight, whether near or far.  Now, be honest, are you tired of my yammering and want for me to just get on with it?”

    John giggled and lent his voice to the throng once more, feeling just the slightest bit guilty. After all, he knew Jim deserved a break, but it was impossible not to get swept up in the cheers.

    Clearing his throat, Jim nodded.  “Alright, alright!  I get it!  Rude,” he jested.  Tapping his foot, he heard the intro to the next song, and he went to sing only for his voice to break.  “Oh, God,” he groaned, wanting to melt into the floor.  “That hasn’t happened since puberty.  Jesus Christ.  I bet all of you got that on video, too.”  With that, he scooped up his water bottle again and began to gulp down a bit more.  “It’s going to go viral before I know it.  ‘Moriarty completes puberty phase last night in London’ will be the title.”  He still couldn’t believe his voice had broken like that in front of such a large crowd.  It was downright embarrassing.

    It was cute, to be honest. John smiled brightly, gazing fondly as he watched Jim’s cheeks flush. He was glad he wasn’t recording as he didn’t want to add fuel to the buzz that would surely spring from the mishap. _Don’t worry,_ he thought as the crowd giggled. _No one will remember tomorrow, and if they do, it will be fondly._ That was certainly the case for him.

    Once Jim had enough to drink, he did a quick singing exercise before bringing his microphone back up to his lips.  “Alright, second time’s the charm, right?” he inquired before signalling for the introduction again.  He tapped his foot before beginning to sing again.  This time, his voice remained steady and strong.  He grinned when he noted that, not really wanting to repeat the experience twice in one night.  When he got to the last note, he dared to belt it, wanting to emphasize the fact that he had his voice back under control.

     _There you go,_ John thought, sitting back in his seat to watch. Jim had his confidence back - that much was evident - and it was beautiful. Each song after the setback went off without a single interference. Jim hadn’t lost the crowd, and he kept the energy of his performance high and enthralling. By the time he finished his last song, John’s throat was raw and burning from screaming and cheering.

    Although Jim loved the effect of having the water cascade down on him at the end of the last song, especially since it brought about a final feeling to the concert, he was always startled by how _cold_ the water was.  He took his leave, goosebumps trailing up his arms and down his legs.  However, he was happy that he was cold and wet, as there had been issues with the contraption during rehearsal earlier that day.  The cheers behind him told him that tonight had been a huge success, leaving Jim with an overall pleasant sense of accomplishment.  That was almost the epitome of a perfect concert - not just for the fans but for him as well.  He could still feel the high as he finished the last note and heard everyone excitedly scream in response.  Letting out a long breath, he smiled as his heart pounded in his chest.  He would never get over the rush.

    Right now, though, he had his sights set on his dressing room, wanting to dry off and get out of his wet clothes.

    After Moriarty's set was finally over, John joined the throng heading backstage. He flashed his pass at the blond bodyguard waiting by the ropes, smiling a little as the man stepped aside.  Most of the group were girls, ranging from ‘probably too young’ to ‘already in Uni,’ with a few men scattered in the mix. They pressed together, crowding the roped-off little square they’d been herded into. John stood near the front, waiting for Jim to appear with bated breath. He'd done a stunt with a bucket of water, dousing himself during the final song, microphone raised to the sky as the crowd went wild. It was the most beautiful thing John'd ever seen. He wondered if Jim would still be dripping when he rounded the corner or if he'd have time to change into something dry. John selfishly wished he wouldn’t.

    Just as Jim was about to go into his dressing room, his manager grabbed him by the arm and turned him around.  Caught off guard, he tried to shake Magnussen off.  “Hold on,” he objected.  “I need to get changed.”

    “You don’t have time to change,” Magnussen informed him.

    "What do you mean, I don't have time to change?" Jim snapped.

    Shaking his head, Magnussen responded, “They’ve already let those with a pass backstage in.  We can’t keep them waiting or else it’ll cause discontentment amongst them.  And we wouldn’t want that after such a successful concert, would we?”  With that, he gazed at Jim over the top of his glasses.

    Honestly, Jim didn’t know _why_ he did that.  It just made Jim more difficult to see, after all, but he supposed it must work on some of the singers that he managed.  “And exactly _when_ will I be getting changed then?”

    “I assure you that we will get you in something dry as soon as possible.”

    Jim scoffed as he heard that.  He knew well enough what that meant: “You’ll get dried off and changed as soon as we’re done with you.”

    Rounding the corner, Jim found himself before a gaggle of fans.  Most of them were females, although there was a fair portion of males tonight.  That was particularly rare nowadays, although Jim wasn’t sure if it was because he had a mostly female following or because men didn’t think to save up money for concert tickets.  More pressing than that thought, though, was the fact that quite a few appeared to be merely thirteen or fourteen years old.  He knew that he also had struggles at that age, but it bothered him to find that there were people so young who had enough of a connection to his music to pay £50 or more just to come to the concert, nonetheless meet him backstage.

    Quickly, he smiled, not wanting any of them to misunderstand his reaction.  A large majority of the response, as per usual, was shrieks and giggles.

    John ducked his head as the group began to shout.  The way they screamed and begged for Moriarty's attention was embarrassing. He raised his eyes, watching as Jim smiled and dripped onto the hard black floor. He was one of many, just a face among the flock, and John knew that. Still, he smiled up at Moriarty from the group of fans. He was breathtaking in his tight, wet leather, a perfect vision of the hedonistic rock lifestyle. John was vaguely aware of the fact he'd stopped breathing as he noticed that Jim was stepping closer.

    Jim's eyes locked onto a younger lad there.  Blond.  Blue-eyed.  Pink cheeks.  He didn't seem the type to enjoy Jim's music, but there he was. Taking another step forward, Jim noticed how this lad’s eyes locked onto his every movement.  He raised a hand and ran it through his wet hair in order to force it back and out of his eyes.  With the way his face was starting to turn red, Jim wondered if he was even breathing.  He had experienced fainting before.  Plenty of girls had swooned before him - sometimes even into his arms - but most usually attempted to get his attention in other ways.  Some would scream excitedly, which proved to be annoying.  Others attempted to hold a conversation with him, and he normally wasn’t particularly interested in what they had to say.  But this had to be a first: someone managed to catch his attention by not saying a word at all.  After all, it was flattering to think that he had managed to take someone's breath away by merely being in their presence.

     He noticed. John shifted and drew himself up the moment he found those rich brown eyes drinking him in. His tongue slipped out, wetting his dry lips. John forced himself to suck in a breath through his nose, lungs filling, and he bit back a moan.  Somehow, he could _smell_ Jim - his sweat, the dry ice from the smoke machine, and just the faintest hint of whiskey. It was intoxicating.

    Jim barely managed not to chuckle.  It appeared as if he was breathing for the first time.  His eyes remained locked, taking in the moment.  After all, it had to be the most adorable reaction Jim ever experienced when a fan met him.

    A girl beside him reached out for Moriarty’s attention, and he felt a small surge of jealousy bloom in his chest. The other members of the VIP group couldn't contain their excitement. They couldn't sit in reverent silence, in awe of the rock god standing before them. Their shouts and screams filled the air as they bounced and extended their hands to Jim. To John, they weren't worthy of being graced with his presence.  Honestly, John wasn’t even entirely sure _he_ was.

    Jim broke eye contact with the lad, his attention diverted by the sudden excitement expressed by the others.  He took a step back, gauging the situation.  In Cardiff, one of the girls had been far too aggressive.  She stepped forward and licked up Jim’s chest, as he hadn’t had time to change then either, before being removed by security.  Jim still loved his fans, but he had to re-evaluate how much trust he blindly placed in them.  He had become a bit skittish around groups of fans since then, although he wasn’t sure if anyone had noticed or not.

    "Please form a proper queue," one of the employees requested.  "Have what you want autographed out and ready to be signed.  Please turn your cameras on so we can take a photo!  Mr Moriarty has a busy schedule ahead of him as well as a long day behind him, so please be considerate of his schedule."

    John hadn't brought much with him. All he’d thought to grab was the first Moriarty album he had ever purchased and a small photo insert from a later record. It was just a small spread, a photo of Jim smoking on a sofa, but it was his favourite. He fumbled out his phone in lieu of a proper camera and wriggled his way into the queue, three people away from the end.

    Jim glanced back at the lad from before.  The way he clutched his items reflected his interest in getting them signed and their sentimental value.  Blinking, Jim examined him once more.  He was handsome, to be sure, but also adorable in his mannerisms.  By the fact that he wasn’t in the front of the queue, he wasn’t too aggressive or pushy, something Jim appreciated.  However, he wasn’t at the very end, which meant he wasn’t entirely a pushover.  Those were both good qualities for someone to have.  That coupled with his initial reaction made Jim want him.  And whatever Jim wanted, he strived to obtain.

    "The lad with the blond hair.  Three from the end.  Move him to the back of the queue," Jim muttered to the employee closest to him before signing the first CD.

     “Of course, sir,” the employee responded before heading over.

    John saw her approaching and grew nervous. Employee intervention wasn’t a good sign. He hadn’t fought to secure his spot in the queue nor had he shouted insults or threatened the others waiting. He couldn’t think of a feasible reason why he’d drawn her attention.

    The employee murmured, "Sir?  Sir, if you could move to the very end of the queue, that would be appreciated.”

    "Oh, of course," John muttered in reply, slipping out of the queue and taking his place at the end.

    It was hard not to feel utterly devastated. He’d been placed dead last. That had to be bad. It meant he had to wait longer to meet his idol.  It meant that Moriarty might call off the autographs before John even reached him.  It took all his effort to square his shoulders and raise his head once more. He was determined not to look as crushed as he felt. If Jim didn’t make it to him, John would leave empty-handed without complaint. He wouldn’t raise a fuss or let himself break down, no matter how painful it would be. John didn’t know how he would tell Harriet, though, if the autograph session fell through. He'd waited so long for the chance to meet Jim Moriarty, and she had spent good money on his backstage pass - more than the ticket itself. If John didn’t get to even meet him, it would feel like a waste of her kindness.

    Jim kept a smile plastered on his face.  The first girl stepped forward, offering her camera quickly to the employee in charge before looking up at Jim.  “Hi!” she exclaimed before holding out a promotional poster for his tour.  She probably bought it just before the concert.

    “Hello,” Jim greeted in response.  “What’s your name?”

    “Elise.  And can I just say that I’m one of your biggest fans.  I noticed you way back when you had your first single, and I thought to myself, ‘This bloke’s got what it takes!’”

    Nodding, Jim answered, “Thank you for your continued support.”

    “You’re welcome!”

    With that, he turned her and smiled at the camera.  Three photos were taken before one employee escorted her away.  Well, he supposed that hadn’t been too painful.  If all of them were that cooperative, he would be through the queue in no time.  And once he got through the queue, he would be able to get his hands on that delicious blond who was waiting in the very back of it.  Subconsciously, Jim licked his lips.

    The second girl stepped forward, absentmindedly thrusting her camera into the hands of the employee.  Immediately, Jim disliked her.  He always based his opinions of people on how they treated those they interpreted as “inferior.”  She held out his first album, but he noticed it was still in near perfect condition.  That told him that she probably didn’t listen to it much.  He signed it without even asking for her name.  Without a word, she slid in close and smiled for the camera.  The employee took three photos before passing it back.  Another went to escort her away.

    “Wait!” she cried out.  “These all look like shit!  I want another go!”

    “I’m sorry, miss, but we really must be-” the employee began to explain.

    She scowled.  “I paid good money for this backstage pass, and I’ll be damned if I leave without a decent photo from it!”

    Jim bit back a sigh before looking over her shoulder.  The photos were fine, in his opinion, and she was probably just raising a fuss in order to receive attention and extra time with him.  She wasn't the first to use this trick, and she wouldn't be the last.  Forcing himself to smile, he pointed at the one she had open, “I like this one a lot.  Your eyes really stand out in it.”

    “You think so?” she inquired, batting her lashes.

    “Yes, I do.  That would make an excellent profile picture.”

    With that, she giggled.  “Maybe you could be Facebook friends with me.”

    Jim wanted to tell her that _that_ was never going to happen, but instead he just smiled and answered, “Maybe.”

    “My name’s Tyler Do-”

    Suddenly, Magnussen was next to them, and Jim had never been more grateful.  Although his manager ran him ragged, he was also a remarkably competent man who could deal with any situation.  Her attention was immediately diverted, and he led her away.  Thus, Jim turned back to the queue and was disheartened to realize that he had only managed to get through two.  It would be quite some time before that blond would be before him, and he knew he needed to work two-fold in order to get to him.

    “Next!” an employee exclaimed.

    One of the younger girls shuffled forward, shy and soft-spoken, and Jim reassured her as he signed her CD and took a photo with her.  The next person was the first bloke of the night, and Jim signed his shirt in big letters so that no one could miss it.  Luckily, he hadn’t planned on getting a photo, so he left happy with just the autograph.  Next came an older girl who flirted with him and even dared to grab his arse when they went to take a photo.  Naturally, she was escorted out of the premises without a photo in hand.  The next three people were uneventful, thank God, and then he got to another bloke.  This one didn’t want anything autographed, just a photo.  The next person was the strangest of all.  She had Jim’s face tattooed onto her shoulder blade, and she wanted him to sign underneath it so she could get that tattooed in as well.  Although he knew that she meant to flatter him, he couldn’t help but feel slightly creeped out.  After her was the other young girl, but she was brash and loud-mouthed.  The friend with her was obviously embarrassed by her, and Jim couldn’t help but feel bad for her.  After all, she wasn’t the one who was being obnoxious.

    And then finally, there was only the blond left.

    Fan after fan filed through the queue. Some were loud, some were rude, and some were absolutely determined to drain as much time from Jim as possible. Time crept, seconds stretched to hours, as John kept up with the dwindling line. He let out a shuddering breath when he finally reached the front of the queue. He hadn't been expecting to make it after being shuffled to the end, but there he was. John Watson, inches away from the one person he admired most in the world. More than Damon Albarn and more than David Bowie. To him, there was only Jim Moriarty.

    "Hello.  What's your name?" Jim inquired, offering him a smile.  He wanted to see what he would do now that they were interacting.  His reaction had been so genuine and startling at just seeing him that Jim couldn’t help but wonder what sort of fan he would wind up being.

    "John," he answered, raising his eyes to Jim. "My name is John, sir."

    "John...?" Jim inquired.  He immediately began to examine the CD case John brought, wanting to know more about its owner.  It was old, emphasized by the fact that it was one of the first albums that Jim produced.  The scratches on the outside plastic as well as the fact that one of the hinges was broken let Jim know that it had been well-loved during its time with John.  He must have felt a deep connection to his music to have listened to it so much.  To be honest, Jim didn’t know if he should be flattered or concerned.

     A wide smile broke across his face. "Um - Watson. John Watson." He wondered if Jim could hear the thunderous beating of his heart over the sounds of the staff breaking down the instruments. John didn’t want him to think he was like some of the others that had approached him that night. He adored Jim, of course, but he wasn’t dangerous. John was simply devoted and more than a little head-over-heels for him.  “I’m - um - I’m a really big fan, and… I just wanted to thank you. Not just for this, but for everything you do. The music, the tours, even the interviews. You probably hear that a lot, but your work means a lot to me.”

    Jim smiled wider.  “That’s awfully kind of you to say,” he replied before carefully signing the CD.  He had pegged John more to be the silent, coy type than grateful.  How pleasantly he had been surprised then.  “Although, really, I feel like I should be thanking fans such as yourself.  Without you all, I wouldn’t be able to do what I love.”

    “Well, you would,” John said with a chuckle. “You just wouldn’t have to deal with quite so many fans. Could be a blessing, honestly.”

    “No, definitely not,” Jim replied firmly, shaking his head.  He didn’t even want to think about how his father would have treated him had he wound up only a partial success.  In fact, it was the fact that he was an international star that kept his father’s mouth shut.  “I’m more than willing to deal with a handful of unruly fans to meet ones like you.”

    “Ones like me?” John asked. “Which sort of fan am I?”

    “The one that matters,” Jim replied before giving him a wink.

    John shivered and licked his lips. “Thank you,” he said softly, looking up at him a moment. He couldn’t believe his luck. Jim was giving him more time than he’d given any of the other fans. John blinked. _Time._ He needed to get to the Tube before it stopped running for the night. “Right - um - I also have this insert. It’s my favourite.  Would you sign it, too? You don’t have to, of course.  I’m sure you’re exhausted, and I don’t want to keep you from anything.”

    “Oh, of course,” Jim responded before taking it from John.  He had good taste since that had been one of Jim’s favourite photos of himself.  Pausing a moment, he debated on what to write.  Part of him told him _not_ to be cheeky.  John was sweet, after all, but that couldn’t compete with Jim’s sass, although some would contest that it was cockiness instead.  After a moment, he found a location to write on that wouldn’t cross his body.  "Dear John Watson, thank you for the fantastic company.  xx Jim Moriarty," he wrote before handing it back to John.  "Do you need me to read it to you?  My handwriting's always a mess."

    John chuckled as he took it back. "No, that's alright. I trust you."

    Jim didn’t know if such a reaction would prove to be good or bad luck for him.  Either way, he wasn’t going to be dissuaded from obtaining John for the night.  "Do you want to give her your camera and get a photo?" he inquired, motioning to the employee still standing by.

     "Um, yes, I'd love that, thank you." John passed the woman his phone. He'd never taken a photo with a celebrity before. He wondered what the etiquette would be.  How close could he stand? If he looked like a trainwreck, could the photo be retaken? John wanted the picture to be as good as possible. He knew he wouldn’t look as good as Jim, but as long as he looked decent, he’d be happy. It was, after all, the closest he’d ever get to Jim, and the only photo he’d have with him.

    Honestly, Jim was surprised that John wasn’t a bit more forward with him.  After all, this was the bloke who didn’t wind up dead last in the queue.  He thought that John would take full opportunity when it came to the photo.  "It's alright for you to touch me," Jim informed him.  He held out one arm, offering John a space to slide into for the photo.  "But I can understand if you don't want to.  I'm still a bit soggy."

    John chuckled and wrapped an arm around his waist. "I don't mind,” he replied, absently thumbing along the curve of Jim’s side. John wasn’t aware of his slight caress as he stood pressed against Jim, smiling as a damp spot spread against his shirt.

    Surprised, Jim fought the temptation to look down at John.  He didn’t want to bring unnecessary attention to the movement, especially since it seemed that John himself wasn’t even conscious of it.  If nothing else, it was at least a good sign.  John seemed interested in Jim.  "Good then," Jim answered before looking up at the camera.

    "3...2...1… Cheese!" the employee exclaimed before taking a couple photos.  She smiled and handed the camera back to him.

    "Look through them and make sure you like them," Jim murmured, finally allowing himself to look down at John.  “If they’re not, we can take a few more until you find one that you like.  You’ve waited long enough, after all.

    “A lifetime,” John whispered as he flipped through the photos. Each one showed a grinning, flushed John with his head tilted toward Jim. Jim was smiling just as broadly. John bit his lip as he looked down at his phone. He hadn’t noticed Jim’s dimples before. "They're perfect. Absolutely perfect. Thank you."

    "It was no trouble at all," Jim responded before glancing at his watch.  Perfect timing.  He drew his brow together in order to feign upset shock.  "Oh, God, I'm afraid I kept you far too long.  The Tube will be shut down by now.  Do you live far from here?"

    John frowned and took a look at the time himself.  Jim was right. “Dammit,” he cursed, running his hand through his hair. “I’m about a thirty minute Tube ride away.” He knew he could call Harry for a ride, but he didn’t want to interrupt her date, especially not after how well they were getting on lately. John supposed he could call a cab if he had enough to pay for the ride. He pulled out his wallet and thumbed through it, trying to keep it out of Jim’s sight.

    "Oh, dear," Jim murmured, shaking his head.  "That's no good.  No good at all.  Since it's my fault that you're trapped here, why don't you wait for me to get changed, and I'll take care of you."

    He blinked up at the man, momentarily lost. Take care of him? God, was Jim offering to give him a lift? John gave his head a small shake and cleared his throat. "A-are you sure? I don't want to be any trouble. You’ve already done so much for me tonight."

    "It’s no trouble at all!" Jim insisted before guiding John back towards his dressing room.  After all, he couldn’t have John getting cold feet whilst he was changing.  John was unpredictable in a glorious way that Jim was unfamiliar with, so he was going to be extra careful.  "Besides, I'm the one who caused all this trouble."

     John carded a hand through his hair. "Then that's fine," he answered a little breathlessly. "It-It’s very kind of you." He entered the dressing room, eyes darting around and cataloguing all of Jim's outfits. He forced himself not to comment on the wardrobe. It was difficult, given that some pieces left very little to his rather active imagination.

    Jim couldn’t help but notice how John’s eyes never stayed in one location for long.  Obviously, he was trying to take everything in while he could.  Humming, Jim peeled the vest off before grabbing a towel to dry off.  Even so, he couldn’t help but wonder if John’s constant motion was due to nerves.  If so, he needed to take John’s mind off whatever it was.  "Did you enjoy the show?" he inquired conversationally.

    John peeked up at him. He was gloriously damp, and water dripped down his chest even as he dried himself. John tried not to stare. "God, yes. You were absolutely brilliant."

    "Thank you," Jim responded, flashing John a smile before twirling a finger.  He had to at least feign modesty so that John might not catch on what was going to happen until it was too late.  "No peeking.  I've got to change."

    John flushed to his neck and averted his eyes. "Right, sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. Still a little in shock, I suppose."

    “I know the temptation's great," he joked, dropping his trousers and pants.  He quickly dried off before tugging on the clothes that he had brought.  "I'm sure you've got quite a figure as well.  If only you didn't hide it underneath that baggy shirt!"  He sighed in faux disappointment.

    "It's not - um - not the same," John mumbled. He was fine, he supposed. He kept in shape by playing rugby, but Jim? Jim was carefully sculpted, each muscle a work of art and the product of a strict fitness routine. He was absolutely gorgeous.

    “You’re right.  It’s not.  However, that doesn’t make it any less attractive,” he noted, grinning slyly.  With that, Jim tugged his shirt on over his head.  Nothing was sticking to him anymore, thank God.  If he remained damp for any longer, he was sure that he would have gone mental.  He and Magnussen were definitely going to have to chat about the whole don’t-have-enough-time-to-change-do-it-later thing.  There was only so much Jim could tolerate, after all.  "That's much better.  Ready to go, John?"

    "Yes, I'm- I'm ready." John didn’t really _feel_ ready, but how could he? Jim was offering to take him home. The night already surpassed his wildest expectations.

    Jim knew he couldn’t be too forward just yet, but he couldn’t keep himself from wrapping an arm around John's waist.  Honestly, John seemed so innocent that Jim figured he wouldn’t quite catch on just yet.  Escorting him from the backstage area, Jim knew he needed a distraction if he was going to get John to his hotel room without too many questions asked.  "Are you in Uni yet or still just college?"

    The touch sent lightning twisting down his spine. John leaned into his embrace as they walked. "Just college. Almost done, though."

    "Any plans for Uni?" Jim pressed, opening the door so they could exit.  Without saying a word, he turned left when they reached the pavement.

    "I was thinking maybe King's Cross. I - um… Well, I want to be a doctor."

    "A doctor?  Why a doctor?" Jim inquired, already able to see his hotel.  He was thrilled that his hotel was close to the concert hall.  Back when he first started, Jim would get put up in whatever place was cheapest.  After all, he was just a starting act for much bigger bands and gigs.  As his career improved, so did the hotel rooms.  Before long, he had been staying in whatever hotel he desired.  Then in Leeds, he had been almost physically accosted on his way back by overzealous parents who thought he was spreading bad morals to their children.  Magnussen couldn’t have his best client being assaulted whilst walking back from a successful show, so they began to put him up into whatever hotel was closest.

    "People need help, and I want to help them. I like science, and I like biology. It seems like a nice fit." John's mind wandered to the army pamphlets stuffed under his mattress. He hadn’t told anyone but Mike about his newest plan for his future since the last thing he wanted was for his parents to find out. He could imagine his father’s reaction and subsequent insults. John didn’t think he could handle being told how weak he was or how worthless he’d be on the battlefield. "And if I decide to enlist, everyone needs a medic."

    "Enlist?" Jim echoed, frowning at that idea.  Even so, it wasn’t his place to criticise John’s life choices.  If John wanted to defend Queen and Country, he was a bigger man than Jim for doing so.  “Interesting.  I wouldn’t have pegged you as a soldier-type.”

    “I’m good at following orders,” John said quietly. He was also good at getting shouted at, but he wasn’t going to mention that to Jim. “Soldiers need someone who can keep a clear head and treat their injuries, anyway. I’m fairly certain I can handle that.”

    Jim supposed that made sense, but it didn’t make him any more thrilled at the prospect of John going overseas just to get shot at.  Even so, John’s parents were probably even less elated.  Jim felt a jolt of surprise as he realised something.  "Your mum and dad aren't worried about you, are they?  I would hate for them to panic over nothing."

    "Doubt they've noticed I'm gone, to be honest. They usually don't. Not that I go from concert to concert, staying up late, staring at..." John cleared his throat. No, going home with men after concerts was not usually in his list of activities. "I just don't like to be at home much."

    "Staring at the stars?" Jim filled in, grinning slightly at his own double entendre.  He guided John into the lobby of the hotel.  It was far from the fanciest place he had ever stayed at, but he knew it would still probably be pretty impressive to someone as young and strapped for cash as John.

    John hardly noticed the scenery change, still reeling from his luck. The lobby of the hotel was certainly brighter and much cooler than the street, but John only had eyes for Jim. "Well, I do stare at the stars. Usually the ones in the sky, though, n-not like this. Or - um - my rudeness in the... in your dressing room."

    Jim pressed the call button for their lift.  "You were nothing but respectable tonight," he informed him before ruffling John's hair affectionately with his free hand.  He then paused a moment, wondering if he should tread into such a sensitive area.  From their conversations, Jim could tell that John wasn’t comfortable with the topic, but he still breached it on his own accord.  Finally, Jim decided to just shoot for it and see what happened.  "I'm sorry to hear about your home life, though.  I didn't have the best one either, but at least something good came out of it.  I mean, not every person gets to do what I do."

    A soft hum slipped from his lips at Jim's touch. He nodded to show that he’d heard Jim, even though he didn’t feel like expanding on the situation. Jim was right. His home life wasn’t the best, but John knew it could have been worse. No matter how bad it got, it could always be worse. The bruises didn’t matter, and neither did the occasional broken bone. He had a roof over his head at the very least, and he was grateful for that. "No,” he answered. “Not everyone gets to do what you do."

    Jim noted the sound despite how soft it was.  Naturally, he hadn’t expected anything less from John.  It was sweet and genuine in a way that Jim hadn’t experienced in a particularly long time.  However, it also gave an unspoken promise of what was to come.  “And not everyone will get to do what you will," Jim noted.  The lift doors opened, and he guided John inside before clicking the appropriate button.  He then waited, wondering what John would do when faced with silence.  Would he do anything at all?  Or would he finally start to comprehend where he was?  If it was the latter, would he be surprised by it?  Awed?  Nervous?

    It dawned on John slowly. They were in a lift. The carpet was a rich red, and the compartment itself was covered in fine wood paneling and trimmed with gold. John had expected to be taken to a discreet black car at the very least. He cursed himself for not paying closer attention. The building was most likely a hotel, which meant he had been following Jim Moriarty to a private room. He sucked in a breath and glanced up at Jim. John wasn’t sure he should say anything, in case Jim changed his mind.

    Jim could tell that John was slowly realising what was going on, and he was surprised that silence was the response.  Part of him wondered if John even knew how to react.  After all, how does one precisely go about refusing a rock star?  The lift doors opened, and Jim hesitated a moment.  He then took a step forward and led John out of the lift.  Reaching his door, he opened it and murmured, "After you."

    John stepped inside the suite. It was large, and far more posh than anything he'd ever been exposed to. His eyes went wide as he took a few steps deeper into the room. "Oh, God..."

    Jim grinned at the reaction.  Finally, this was something he was used to.  It was something that he could easily use to his advantage.  It gave him a starting point.  John had definitely never been pampered before, which meant anything that Jim did - even if it was just ordering room service - would probably impress him.  Not that Jim frowned upon the easily impressed.  It was quite the contrary, actually, since he loved impressing people.  John was proving to be quite the diamond in the rough.  "Deep breaths," he coaxed, closing the door behind them.  "It's just a room."

    "Just a room? Christ, Jim. It's bigger than my house," John whispered. He looked around in awe. The drapes alone probably cost more than Harriet’s car. “It’s beautiful.”

    Although Jim could never say it aloud, John was absolutely adorable.  The way his eyes lit up when he looked around the room, the way he took in every inch of it, the way his words came out as small breaths.  Most people were impressed, but John reflected sheer _gratitude_ at being here that Jim wasn’t used to.  Already, he could taste his victory, and he cautiously stalked forward, like a tiger closing in on its prey.  "If you think that's impressive, you should try out the bed.  It has to be the most comfortable mattress I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying on."

    John turned to face him. Jim had drawn closer as John checked out the room. Now, he was close enough that John could feel the heat radiating from his body. "The bed?" he asked. His voice was barely audible.

    "You know what a bed is, yes?" Jim teased, fighting the urge to lick his lips.  John smelled intoxicating, and his innocence made Jim want to pounce.  But patience - he had learned - was key.  Therefore, he would continue coaxing and guiding just a bit longer so John would relax again for him.

     "Of course I do," John countered. "I'm just surprised you're suggesting I spend my time in yours."

    John licked his lips and turned toward the doors separating the bedroom from the rest of the suite. Was Jim really suggesting what John thought he was? If so, what should he do? John had never been in a situation like this before. If he went along with it and joined Jim in the bedroom, what would happen? He couldn’t believe Jim was attracted to him. Not like that, at least, and certainly not after one meeting. Still, would he be able to live with himself if he refused? John often dreamt of Jim Moriarty inviting him back to his hotel. They always ended with him waking up alone and covered in sweat. This was real, though. This was different. He trailed his fingertips along the handle and pushed the door open gently. He had made his decision.

    Letting out a long breath, Jim was shocked by how relieved he was.  There had always been an invisible threat - the chance of John refusing him or fleeing - until this moment.  However, it seemed that John was willing to be brave tonight.  Slowly, he leaned down.  "I’m glad my intentions are finally clear," he whispered into John's ear.  "Did you read it?"

    John could barely stifle a groan. Jim’s breath was hot against his skin. His accent made John feel physically weak, and that soft murmur gave him chills. "Read what?" he asked as he crossed to the bed. John lowered himself down and perched on the edge of the mattress.

    "Your photo," Jim answered, taking a stride forward.  He kept his eyes locked on John's.  Without a doubt, John looked positively _edible_ on Jim’s bed.  Jim wasn’t sure he had ever met someone who looked so tantalizing before, but it made his blood rush.  He wanted John desperately, but he was still willing to chase a bit longer in order to ensure the prize was that much sweeter.  "What I wrote."

    John pulled it out of his bag and looked over it. "Dear John Watson, thank you for the... Oh!" His eyes widened as he read it again and again, vaguely aware of Jim drawing closer. "So this is what you meant.” He brushed his thumb over the silver ink and raised his head. When had Jim decided? And why him? “What makes you think I'll be fantastic?"

    "Let’s just say that I have a sixth sense about these things," Jim explained.  He leaned down, placing one hand over John's heart.  "The way your breath caught when you saw me - that moment when our eyes met and the world dissipated around us - those are things I thought could only exist in my imagination.  And yet here you are... my own little anomaly."

    The touch was fire. It spread through his chest and boiled his blood as his dark blue eyes raised up to Jim. He was right. Everything had vanished when they gazed at each other backstage: the noises, the crowd, the crew, everything but Jim and John himself. The moment was seared into his mind. "I've never been with a man before," John breathed. "Hope that sixth sense of yours is right." The last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself while in Jim’s bed. He wasn't a blushing virgin by any means. He'd been with plenty of girls. This was different, though. This was _Jim Moriarty_. He was John's whole world. He was _famous_. He could have anyone he wanted in a heartbeat, and yet it was John he’d chosen from the crowd.

    Victory had never looked so fetching.  "It will be," Jim told him before pressing John down onto the mattress.  He breathed in John’s scent once more before allowing his lips to ghost up John's neck.  "I'm more than happy to teach you anything you want to know."  With that, he nipped at John's Adam's apple.

     John sat back on the bed with a soft groan. He leaned his head to the side, giving Jim more room to explore his throat. The graze of teeth coaxed a low whine from his lips. "I'd- I'd like that," John whispered. "You teaching me. How much do you think I can learn in one night?”

    Jim already found John's noises exhilarating.  "Enough," he replied before pressing down against John.  He brought himself up slightly and stared down at him from above. Tantalizingly slow, he undulated his hips, rutting against John.  Their breath mingled, and Jim could practically taste the promises that lied in store for him, but he didn't close the gap for a kiss.  He wanted to keep John on edge a bit longer - savour his victory - before finally giving in to carnal lust.

    Soft and pliant, John stared up at Jim through his golden lashes. The teasing pressure against his groin wasn't nearly enough to ease the need he felt building with every touch and every breath. He stretched his arms above his head. John wasn't sure he had permission to touch, and he refused to make assumptions. He wanted to be good. "Oh, God," he groaned, rocking against him and matching his pace.

    Once John moved in rhythm with him, Jim breached the distance.  His lips pressed against John in small, chaste kisses, wanting to continue teasing him just a little more.  He just wanted to cause a few more of those lovely noises John made.  Hesitantly, he begged for entrance into John's mouth, his eyes never shutting as he tried to register and memorize every expression and reaction John made.

    The gentle caress of Jim’s lips left John whimpering and gasping. Kissing was something he was confident with, and John parted his lips. He granted Jim access and slid their tongues together. He nipped at Jim's mouth with a low, greedy moan, teeth pressing carefully against his lush lips. John’s hips canted upward as their bodies came together. John could feel him, hot and hard, even through the layers separating them.

    Jim groaned happily, glad to see that John was comfortable and confident in this adventure.  He had been worried when John said he hadn’t been with a man before that he might get cold feet.  Not that Jim would blame him, of course, but it would put a damper on his plans for the night.  Sliding his hands down, he gripped the bottom of John's shirt - pleased John had the foresight to put his arms up.  In the middle of a breath, he yanked John's shirt up and off.  Never once did he lose rhythm against John, and their lips reconnected as soon as his shirt was gone.  Humming, Jim stroked his hands down John's sides, scratching at the skin.  He was fitter than Jim suspected, which was a nice surprise.

    Jim's hands were far softer than John had anticipated. They slipped along John's skin, caressing every curve of muscle. Now and again, he bent his fingers, letting his nails scrape angry trails along John's stomach. He whimpered and stretched, arching his back as he hooked his thighs over Jim's hips. John could barely form a thought. Jim filled his mind and coursed through his veins. He drew him in with every breath. Nothing existed beyond the connection of their bodies and the sound of their passion.

    Pulling back slightly, Jim trailed kisses down John's neck.  "I can't get your pants off like that," he murmured affectionately.  He couldn’t keep himself from reaching down and unbuttoning John's trousers.  His patience was wearing thin, after all.  Never before had he restrained himself for so long.  However, it made him desire John all the more.  Slipping his hand in, he kneaded John's cock through his pants.   "Put your legs down for Daddy now, Johnny-boy," he crooned, indulging in his kink.  John seemed sweet enough that it wouldn’t come back to bite him.  After all, the last thing either of them needed was the front page splattered with their sexual affairs.

    John lowered his legs with a whimper. The touch - or perhaps the order - made him feel weak. Jim was so confident.  It radiated from every touch and every kiss. John found it impossible to stay clear-headed beneath Jim’s warm body. He trembled slightly, strung out on a heady cocktail of adrenaline and lust.  "Y-yes. Yes, of course..."

    Jim kissed him softly before gingerly tugging John's trousers and pants down.  Licking his lips, he couldn’t help but stare at John’s considerable size.  It was lovely, but he unfortunately had other plans for John tonight.  Maybe if he was good enough, he could convince him to stay for another day and then something might come out of it.  After all, it seemed a shame to let such a beautiful, lengthy cock go to waste.  He sank between John's legs.  "Who knew you were such a big boy?" he noted before teasingly lapping at the head of John's cock.  "Like I said, sixth sense."

    It was true. John was sizeable for his age and short stature. Hearing it from other partners was one thing.  It brought a confident smirk to his lips and a small rush of pleasure to his heart. Hearing it from the lips of Jim, whom he'd fantasized about for years, was something else entirely. John felt his cheeks colour at the compliment. "Thank you," he moaned, fighting to keep his eyes open as Jim's tongue licked along his skin. “I’m glad you find me… pleasing.”

    Jim hummed in acknowledgement,already knowing exactly what he wanted to do to John.  He slowly wrapped his lips around John's cock before sinking lower with every bob.  Because he didn’t want John to quickly get too close to the edge, he kept his pace teasing and languid.  Meanwhile, his other hand reached down and located the lube he had placed underneath the bed in preparation for his night alone.  How could he have possibly known that he was going to stumble across John Watson, after all?

     John clenched his fists to keep from running his hands through Jim's dark, damp hair. He whined and rocked slowly, desperate for more. But Jim only gave him just enough to set John’s nerves on fire and leave his body aching. His mouth was warm and silken as he sucked, and the sight of his cheeks hollowing brought another desperate groan from John’s lips.

    John looked gorgeous but pained.  Noticing his fists, Jim pulled off before kissing the head.  "Do you fear touching me?  Do you worry that if you do, the fantasy will be broken?  I'm not a figment of your imagination, you know.  Touching me won’t make me disappear."

    John lowered his hands and carded them through Jim's hair. Slowly, he was working up the courage to explore Jim’s body. He wished he had more time to cover every inch of Jim’s smooth, pale skin with his lips. John long to taste him, to ring his throat with dark bites, and to trace his fingers down Jim’s spine. But that could come later... if there _was_ a later. John gave an experimental tug to Jim’s hair - not too hard, of course - to test the waters between them.

    Usually, Jim didn’t like it when his partners became demanding in bed.  He had been told once that it was because he felt entitled.  However, for John, he didn’t complain.  He knew John probably needed some control.  He was out of his depth in nearly every way, and Jim could give him this.

    "If that's not okay, tell me,” John whispered. He didn't want to ruin it and run Jim off. He'd never have a chance like this again and certainly not with Jim Moriarty. His luck was almost surreal. It felt like something from a fairy tale: a peasant boy spotted in a crowd, picked out of a throng and whisked away to the hero’s boudoir…

    Jim couldn’t help but smile.  The ever considerate John Watson appeared once more, much to Jim’s contentment.  Sometimes, people became arrogant in his bed, but John was still just as humble as ever despite being chosen.  "It's alright, Johnny.  I can handle a bit of roughness," he murmured before sliding up and sucking on John's lower lip.

    John grinned up at him. "So can I," he whispered, caressing the nape of Jim’s neck. “Maybe we could try that next.”

    “Maybe,” Jim agreed.  He slipped two fingers into John's arse without warning, taking his previous comment as an invitation.  He knew that John would be relaxed from their caressing, so it would be more startling than painful.  Once they were in, though, he didn't move them, assuming John would tighten from the sudden assault.

    John buried his face in Jim's throat and stifled a gasp against his flesh. It was strange, being stretched around his fingers so suddenly. His skin stung slightly, and his muscles clenched around Jim's digits as he drew a shallow breath. "F-fuck," he breathed, forcing himself to stay still. "Never done more than one when I'm alone..." John felt heat rise to his cheeks at the admission.

    Jim chuckled, unable to help it with John being that bashful.  "You're adorable," he whispered into John's ear.  "I'm not going to move them until you relax.  Promise.  Deep breaths now."  With that, he began to assault John's neck, wanting to provide a distraction.  It was simply a bonus that he would leave John littered with love bites in the process.

    John took a slow, steady breath at Jim’s instruction. He’d almost forgotten again. It was easy to lose himself in the moment. Jim’s growls sent chills down John’s spine. There was something sinful in the way his chest rumbled with each low sound. As he sucked marks into the skin of John’s throat, John shuddered and whispered his name. Slowly, his body began to relax.

    As soon as he felt John’s tension ease, Jim began to carefully pump his fingers in and out.  He had to make sure that he wasn’t hurting John despite any desire or impatience he might still be feeling.

    "Oh, God, yes," John moaned, tightening his fingers in the base of Jim's hair. He shifted slightly, giving Jim a better angle to reach him.

    Jim moved his fingers faster, knowing John was now pliant enough to handle it.  Carefully, he slid in a third and continued marking his neck, now being proffered to him.  By the end of the night, John was going to resemble a dalmatian more than a homo sapien.

    John wondered how bruised his skin would look in the morning. Would anyone ask about the marks? Would anyone even believe the truth of their source if he told them? How could they? John - plain John - being chosen to worship Jim Moriarty in the most carnal of ways? And it _was_ worship, pure and simple. John would give him anything and everything he asked of him.

    Silently, Jim fished out his own cock and slicked it up.  "Take off my vest, Johnny," he requested.  Honestly, he was going to have to buy himself ice cream later to celebrate how patient he was being tonight.

    Shaking hands rose to Jim's tight vest. John pulled down the zipper and stripped the vest from his shoulders. A reverent sigh slipped from his lips. Jim was pale, seemingly carved from alabaster and toned to perfection. John ran his hands over his bare chest, thumbing across the dark trail of hair leading beneath his trousers. "You're beautiful," John said softly.

    Smiling, Jim held his tongue.  He was beautiful because he had to be.  Most days, he worked out and dieted in order to keep his body in this form.  It wasn’t fun whatsoever, but seeing the expression on John’s face made it almost worth it.  “Thank you,” he murmured before pressing their foreheads together.  Shoving his tight leather trousers and pants to the ground, he grabbed John's hips and dragged him down, allowing the tip of his cock to dip in teasingly.  "Are you ready?"

    "Yes! Yes, please, I'm ready!" John licked his lips and raised his eyes to Jim's, the blue of his irises nearly masked by the width of his pupils. "I want you..."

    Without another word, Jim slipped the full length of his cock into John's arse.  Just like that, he had him.  No matter where John went or whom he was with, Jim Moriarty would _always_ be his first male lover.  "Johnny, you're so tight," he moaned before giving a few shallow thrusts.

    John hooked his arms behind Jim's neck, gasping as Jim filled him. "Oh, Jim!" He squeezed his thighs against his hips, body quivering. "Fuck!" The pain began to fade with each gentle press forward. John leaned up and kissed him hard. "More," he whispered, letting his lips brush along Jim's. "I- I can take it. I can take you. Please!"

     _My first_ , John thought, mouth quirking into a smile. _Jim Moriarty is my first. How many others can say the same?_   John canted his hips downward, meeting Jim's thrust with an obscene groan.

    Jim had been holding himself back as best he could, able to see the pain John was experiencing upon first penetration.  As soon as he had permission, he couldn't stop himself.  His patience had finally broken, and his thrusts became faster and longer.  Even so, he didn’t become rough with John.  Roughness could come later.  This was about breaking John in and _owning_ him.

    There was nothing else. Nothing but the sounds of skin sliding together and the wild moans and cries that tore themselves from John's throat. The mattress groaned and creaked beneath them. John was full of Jim, connected to him in the most intimate way, and he'd never felt so utterly consumed. He couldn't get enough. John dragged his teeth over Jim's plump bottom lip, drinking in every growl that vibrated in his chest.

    Jim caught John's lips, kissing him harder than necessary.  Seeing John Watson so far gone was beautiful.  He had never experienced anything quite like it before.  Humming, he began to snap his hips harder, allowing a certain degree of roughness, before dragging his nails down John's sides.  He wanted all of John’s body marked as claimed.  "I told you," he murmured happily.  "Daddy never gets a prediction wrong."

    John's lashes fluttered as he leaned into the scratches. "Mmn! So I'm- I'm good, _Daddy?_ " His words were nearly breathless, more of a whine than proper speech as Jim fucked him. A small voice in his mind warned him not to play along, but Jim seemed to like it. Honestly, John liked it too. It was submission. It was praise. It was pretty fucking hot.

    It took all of Jim's self-control to not orgasm at that moment.  The way John said the word - his lips forming it, his tongue allowing it to roll off, his tone implicating a question - proved that he was even more than what Jim predicted him to be.  "No, Johnny," he disagreed before taking John's hands into his own and pinning them above John's head, leaving him helpless underneath him.  "Daddy said you were going to be _fantastic_."

    John grunted and tightened around him. He loved the feeling of being stretched beneath him. With his wrists gripped and pinned, he was utterly at Jim's mercy. "Th-thank you, Daddy," he gasped. His cock twitched between their stomachs, flushed and aching to be touched.

    Switching to one hand, Jim reached down and began to lazily stroke John's cock, rubbing his thumb over the head.  "You're welcome, Johnny-boy," he murmured between pants.  He was certain that John would look beautiful when he finally orgasmed.  On the one hand, he couldn’t wait to see it.  On the other, he dreaded their encounter being over.  John was like a breath of fresh air, and Jim was already becoming strangely attached to him.

    At the touch of Jim’s hand, John cried out and jerked his hips harder. Even with the gentlest caress of his cock, he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to last. His body trembled more with every thrust, giving away his desperate need for release. "I bet you will, too," he moaned, eyes rolling back in his head. "Fuck, fuck! I-I'm close, Jim- Daddy!"

    Jim then spoke a word he thought he would never whilst in bed: "Please."

    "I... p-please?"

    "I meant..."  Jim swallowed hard, surprised by how flustered he had become.  He wasn’t used to begging in bed, and this made him vulnerable.  Until now, John couldn’t be sure how much of an effect he had on Jim.  By requesting for him to _please_ orgasm, Jim was giving John leverage. "Please... come for me."

    John looked up at him with his big blue eyes. "J-Jim, I'm... Fuck! _D-Daddy_!" He gasped, and his body stiffened as his cock pulsed over Jim's fist. His lips parted and his eyes fell closed. John’s spine curved, bringing their chests together as he rode out the high of his climax. He panted and moaned Jim’s name again and again, as if chanting a prayer.

    Jim's jaw dropped as he watched John orgasm.  The curve of his body, the tension, the open mouth, and the closed eyes were all so gorgeous that Jim’s eyes kept jumping from one feature to the next in order to take it all in.  The way John instinctively pressed close to Jim during his orgasm allowed Jim to appreciate the full extent of John's submission.  However, it was the wanton calling of Jim's name repeatedly that caused Jim to orgasm as well.  He grunted in surprise.  Usually, he could control himself, but here he was, filling John with his cum.  His eyes fluttered shut, and he tossed his head back in ecstasy as he rode it out.

    John could feel Jim spilling inside of him, excess cum dripping down the curve of his arse. Sweaty and spent, John went limp and pliant once more, letting out a quiet, contented coo. "Oh, my God..." John chuckled and draped an arm over his eyes.

    Jim was exhausted.  Carefully slipping out of John's arse, he leaned down and kissed at his arm.  "What're you hiding for, Johnny?  I can’t kiss you like this!" he complained, running his fingers up John's side.

    John giggled and lowered his arm. "You're incredible," he answered. "That's why."

    "Well, you're fantastic," he reiterated with a chuckle before dragging John in close and fumbling with the duvet.  "Although you're probably going to be sore in the morning.  Best you stay here and eat breakfast in bed."

    "Breakfast in bed? You're spoiling me," John hummed, draping an arm over Jim's slender waist. "Not that I'm complaining. Are you gonna be here when I wake up?"

    "Of course.  I have another show tomorrow night, after all, and you _are_ in my bed," he reminded John.  Shifting slightly, he tucked John's head underneath his chin in order to get comfortable.

    John took a breath, nose brushing Jim's throat. The scent of his sweat and their mingled sex brought a smile to his lips. "Okay. Goodnight, Jim."

    "Goodnight, Johnny," Jim whispered, closing his eyes.  He smiled to himself.  A perfect package all wrapped up in his arms.  With a few more strings pulled, he bet he could get John to stay another day.  He would have to wait and see.  Carefully, he slid a hand into John's hair before drifting to sleep.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A disheartened John faces the prospect of returning home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the reads, the comments, and the kudos! We hope you enjoy this new chapter!
> 
> Also, Ashurha's having way too much fun naming the chapters to conflict with the "actual" chapter numbers.

    What finally roused John from his slumber was a loud, high-pitched ringing in his ears. His legs ached from jumping and banging into the seat in front of him. _God, I need to be more careful,_ he thought as he struggled to find a more comfortable position. _I… Wait a minute…_ The warm body beneath him brought a smile to his lips. _Last night was real then,_ he thought, running over the events of the previous night in his mind. Jim had brought him back to his private hotel room and raised marks on his skin with soft lips. Jim had pinned his wrists and claimed him entirely. Mouth-shaped bruises littered his skin, proof that their meeting hadn’t been a figment of his imagination. As he stretched and yawned, his foot slid down Jim Moriarty's thigh. Sometime during the night, John had curled around him, arms around his middle and leg hooked over his hips. John pressed a kiss to Jim’s chest and stole a peek at the clock. _Almost noon._ _Time really flies..._

    Jim groaned, stirring grudgingly.  No matter how many hours he got, it never seemed enough.  Of course, his body was trying to compensate for all of the hours he lacked.  Between travelling, rehearsing, interviewing, preparing, working out, and doing menial activities such as eating or using the loo, Jim slept whenever he had more than ten minutes free.  Today was a blessing in disguise, as he had nothing to do until tonight.  Thus, he was determined to sleep the day away, but he could feel someone pressed up close against him - John, he recalled - and he slumped back into the mattress.  "Not yet," he complained.

    John settled back down with a chuckle. "Yes, sir.” He could only imagine how exhausted Jim must be after his performance at the concert. Maintaining energy like that came with a price, and a little extra sleep was something John could live with. With a soft hum, he rested his messy blond head on Jim’s chest.

    Humming happily, Jim subconsciously ran his fingers through John's hair as he slowly came to his senses.  Although he didn’t want to wake up, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now.  Besides, it was late.  Any more sleep would make him feel as if he had lost far too much time.  "Sleep well?"

     "Better than I have in years," John purred, leaning into Jim’s soft caress. His touch was surprisingly tender.

    Interesting answer, but Jim was still too disoriented to take proper note of it.  He sucked in a deep breath before stretching against John, his back cracking in the process.  Last night had been fun.  Not only that, but Jim couldn’t deny that he had slept fantastically as well.  There was just something about having a human being next to him that made him feel not so isolated in the world. But he would have to give that up now, wouldn’t he?  Would he?  “Do you have a ticket for tonight’s concert?” he inquired conversationally, barely peeking one eye open to look down at John.  The black-out curtains kept the room astonishingly dark.

    "No. Just last night's. Which means I should probably go home." The thought of returning home brought with it a sense of dread. John hadn’t called last night. In the excitement and the fevered bliss, he’d forgotten to check in. Nothing pleasant waited for him upon arriving. And as for leaving Jim… Well, John didn’t want that either. He had to, of course. It wasn’t like groupies _mattered._ John would return to his dull life. University would follow, then his enlistment, and then who knew? Probably a job at a clinic, a flat small enough for one or perhaps a flatshare with someone else, and Jim Moriarty wouldn’t spare him a second thought.

Jim was relieved to hear the word “probably.”  It meant he still had a chance of keeping John one more night.  "You _could_ go home.  I mean, I believe people do.  But you don't _have_ to.  You are, after all, in the bed of the star."

    "I- I don't?" There was an innocent hope in John’s tone. "I could stay?" It was almost too much for him. Jim was offering him more time. What had he done to be so bloody lucky? John looked up at him with an open vulnerability. Was there a catch? Was it some sort of trap?

    John looked so remarkably hopeful.  Honestly, Jim felt like he had just offered to pay for his entire university education, not just another night with him.  It gave him a rush.  "You could - if you so desired - come to the concert tonight." Jim replied.

    Another night.  A second performance.   John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "God, I'd love to,” he replied, “but I don’t want to be any trouble.”

    "You would be the antonym of trouble, Johnny.  Trust me.  I would much rather spend another night with you than not.”  He paused a moment before looking over at John.  “You wouldn't get bored, though?  I mean, the concert is basically last night all over again.”

    "There's no way I'd get bored of seeing you perform. All that energy, all your little acts.  The water one alone..." A small smile spread across his lips, and he let out a little hum. “Incredible.”

    "Are you going to get all hot and bothered?" Jim teased before pecking John on the lips.  "Watching me get drenched again.”

    John giggled. "Yes I will. I'll be hot, and jealous, and absolutely focused on every little thing you do."

    “It's the worst, though, when they won't let me change afterwards.  One of these days, I swear, I'll catch pneumonia.  And then my doctor will have to help me get better."  With that, he grinned at John.

    John cocked his head, the smile fading from his lips. "Oh, God, they wouldn't let you change? I'm so sorry! I don't want you to get sick.  I didn’t know! All those people holding you up during the signing, and I was one of them…”

    "What're you sorry for?  It wasn't your fault," Jim replied before kissing John's forehead.  Honestly, John had to be the most considerate person Jim had ever met.  And it was genuine as well.  "What do you say to breakfast in bed?  I'm sure we can have something sent up from the hotel kitchen."

    "I'd love breakfast in bed. Never gotten that before.” He flashed Jim a lazy smile. “As long as _you_ don’t mind, I think it’d be perfect.”

    Chuckling, Jim answered, "I don’t mind at all, especially since it's more lazy than anything else.  They’re probably expecting it, too, what with me being a rock star.  I managed to overhear the maid commenting that I was the cleanest celebrity she’s ever looked after.”  He felt self-conscious, knowing he was trying to impress John by showing his maturity and consideration as well.  Christ, when had he become so needy?  “Check the menu and see what you want.  It’s by the phone."  With that, he got up and headed over to the loo.

    “I’m sure you’re a breath of fresh air,” John teased as he grabbed the menu and flipped through it. While he couldn’t speak for Jim’s usual manner, he suspected he was “the cleanest celebrity” because of how much his performances took out of him. There’s no drive to destroy a hotel room when you can barely keep your eyes open. It was honestly endearing. John finally settled on blueberry waffles and a mango smoothie, and his stomach gave a little rumble of approval.

    Once done, Jim headed back in.  John looked so good, laying on his bed like that.  Honestly, it was like he was _begging_ to be ravished.  However, he needed to at least eat first - get some fuel inside of him - before attempting _that._  "You know what you want?" he inquired, picking up the phone.

    "Um - could I have blueberry waffles and a mango smoothie, please?"

    “Your wish is my command,” Jim responded.  He quickly called down and politely gave their orders, still wanting to impress John with his chivalry, before hanging up.  Flopping onto the bed, he began to scroll through the television channels before stumbling across a celebrity gossip channel.  "They always get everything wrong," Jim stated before rolling his eyes.  "They once said that I was dating actress Molly Hooper.  Don't get me wrong, she's a lovely lady - very witty and charming - but you can see from last night why that's the furthest thing from truth."

    John blushed. "She's cute, though. I can see why they’d spread those rumors. I’m - uh - kinda lucky that’s all they were.” He looked away quickly, hiding a small smile. _Lucky, indeed._

    "She _is_ very cute.  And also covertly dating producer Greg Lestrade," Jim filled in before raising a finger to his lips, signalling John to keep it a secret.

    John grinned. "The secret's safe with me. So - um - if not Molly Hooper, who are you seeing, then?"

    "Oh, this really charming lad from London!" Jim exclaimed, grinning mischievously.  "He's got eyes bluer than the sky and hair more golden than the sun.  I mean, London is a pretty big place, so chances are that you don't know him, but his name's John Watson."

    John laughed, rolling on top of Jim and gazing down at him with a playful grin. "You're a tease, you know that? Shouldn't go getting my hopes up. I know it’s not like that." A sadness crept into his eyes, a bone-deep sorrow that drained the mirth from his expression. It could never be like that. John was merely incidental, and he knew it.

    Jim refused to allow himself to frown when he saw the sudden change of heart John was experiencing.  He hadn’t intended to hurt him in such a way, after all.  But the truth wasn't that the success rate of groupies was slim to none, but that the success rate of celebrities was.  Years ago, Jim had come to terms with the fact that he might never get married or have a long-term relationship.  Apparently, being a celebrity didn't allow for such privileges.  John would leave him, go home, go off to Uni, find a boyfriend, maybe two or three or five, eventually fall madly in love, become a fiancé, then a husband.  And Jim?  Well, at least Jim would have money and fame.  It wasn’t much, but it was something.  "Ah, well, it was worth a try, wasn't it?"

    For a moment, John’s vision blurred. He kissed Jim almost desperately, letting his lips linger as he bumped their foreheads together. "It's alright. I don’t expect anything more. You picked me for an evening, and I’ll never forget it. Or you.”

    "Is it, though?" Jim asked, his gaze sliding out of focus.  Sometimes, he felt as though he was merely a puppeteer, able to make others act in the way that he desired.  He granted John his time - or, at least, that’s how John saw the situation.  For plenty, that power had corrupted them.  Sometimes, he was terrified it would corrupt him as well.  "I don't know if it is."

    "Why wouldn't it be?" It had to be. After tonight, Jim would move on and out of John's life. He'd still have his music and the autographs to remember him by, but Jim would find a new cute blond boy in the next city. And the next. And the next. Assuming, of course, that blonds were his type. The marks would fade from his skin, and John would fade from Jim’s memory. That’s just how it happened. There was nothing John could do to change that.

    "No reason," Jim murmured lamely.  What would it matter to John anyway?  Jim was just bragging rights nowadays.  Who would actually want to pursue a relationship that would take such time and effort?  No one, to be sure, and definitely not someone like John Watson, who probably had friends and family to think about first.  His whole life was before him, and Jim could never slot himself into it.  Between tours, recording, and interviews, he would hardly ever get to see John.  It would be far too difficult and stressful for the both of them.  Biting back a growl, he kept himself from entertaining such thoughts any further.  It was better for John this way.

    Suddenly, the bell rang, and he wriggled away from John before pulling on a robe in order to answer the door.  Never before had he been so happy for the distraction.  After paying a handsome tip, Jim brought the tray over before carefully setting it on the end of the bed.  "Breakfast is served."

    John looked up at him and furrowed his brow. Jim was clearly... _something_. His eyes were distant now, and he wasn't quite looking at John when he spoke.  Not only that, but his voice...  John was trying to be realistic about the situation. He was so sure that Jim wouldn't even know his name three nights later, but the sudden shift in Jim’s mood was almost telling.  "Hey. Everything all right?" he asked, not bothering to mask his concern. John might be a one-time lay, but he still genuinely _cared._

    "Hmm?" Jim inquired.  He had drifted off again, kicking himself for allowing such thoughts flood his mind again.  Honestly, his love life was something he sacrificed when he became a celebrity.  His echoic memory kicked in last second, and he recalled the question.  "Oh -um… yeah.   Everything's the same as always.  No big deal.”  He glanced around, trying to find something else to discuss.  “Do you like your blueberry waffles?"

    John forced himself to take a bite. Clearly, something was wrong, but John didn’t want to press. If Jim didn’t want to discuss it, he wasn’t going to force it. "Yeah,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “They're delicious."

    "I'm glad," Jim murmured, his eyes sliding out of focus again.  Tonight, he would be lucky if he managed to get John back in his room for another romp.  If so, he would have to hire a cab in the morning while John was sleeping in order to suspend the inevitability a bit longer.  Then maybe they could manage to have one more breakfast together before the taxi arrived.  Jim would escort John downstairs and to the vehicle.  Then that would be that.  This would wind up the same as every other occurrence.  Honestly, Jim wasn’t sure why he continued to put himself through it.  Every time, he got his hopes up.  And every time, they were dashed in the end.  There was no such thing as a real life fantasy love story.  No such thing at all.  Ever so slightly, he slumped at the thought.

    John reached over and caught Jim's hand. "I can tell something's wrong. Believe me, I'm the prince of avoidance, but if you want to talk to me, you can. I mean that, Jim. I know I'm just another fan, just another... whatever _this_ is, but I didn't come along with you because I'm some sort of fame-seeker or so I could tell everyone I know. No one even knows I like blokes - not really anyway - and I don't _want_ them to know. So if you’re looking for discretion, I swear I won't breathe a word." He brushed his thumb over Jim’s knuckles as he spoke, as if trying to soothe him. How could he possibly help? It wasn’t as if John could just wave his hands and make everything better, but he could lend Jim a sympathetic ear.

    “You continue to amaze me with your consideration.  I haven’t had the pleasure of being with someone as genuine as you in such a long time.  However, I am quite capable of handling myself and my own emotions, and I’m afraid I would do nothing but burden you if I conveyed them,” Jim stated before giving John’s hand a squeeze.  “If you are concerned about my good opinion of you, though, you shouldn’t be.  I know that you didn’t come because you were seeking fame or bragging rights.  You’re far too naïve and kind to do that.  I more or less tricked you into coming here.”  He paused a second, not knowing how John would take this information.  “I - um - I told that employee to move you to the back of the queue so you would miss the last Tube home.”

_Naïve._ Somehow, it stung to discover that was how Jim saw him. John blinked up at him with a small frown. "You _wanted_ me to come back with you?" He knew he should be furious. Jim had used him - _tricked_ him - just to get him into bed. But he'd saved John from another night of screaming, from the whip of a leather belt for being out too late, and from going to bed feeling weak and helpless. How could he be upset about that?  "I suppose it wasn't very nice of you to do, but it's better than what I would have gotten if I'd gone home."

    Jim stared at him.  "What would you have gotten if you had gone home?” he pressed, tilting his head in curiosity.  His eyes bore into John’s, trying to decipher even the smallest of movements.

    “Oh, just, you know, staying out later than planned, missing the Tube, needing to wake someone up for a ride… Likely to get punished, you know?” John tried to play it down. It wasn’t like Jim needed to worry about him or his home life. There was nothing he could do about it. “Just not fun when it happens.”

    “I suppose you can’t stay then,” Jim responded, allowing his disappointment to colour his voice.  “I wouldn’t want you to get punished due to my selfishness, after all.  I just can’t help but want to keep you to myself for as long as possible.  But even _I_ am not worth a grounding.”

    “The last thing I want to do is go home,” John whispered. In fact, the last thing he wanted was to _leave._ “I want to stay for as long as you’re able to let me.” What he didn’t volunteer was that Jim _was_ worth any screaming and any pain his father would inflict, but John didn’t want to sound clingy or desperate.

    Jim leaned down and kissed John softly before nipping at his lower lip, begging for entrance.  Many people claimed that actions spoke louder than words, but Jim honestly doubted John could have done anything to give him the same rush of adrenaline and sense of relief.  He couldn’t even convey how desperately he needed to hear that.  But what he did know was that John said it, and he wanted to reward him _somehow_.

    As Jim’s pointed teeth grazed John’s skin, he let out a soft whine and wrapped his arms around Jim’s back. There was something comforting in the way Jim had reacted to his confession. John didn’t hesitate to part his lips, allowing Jim to lick into his mouth.

    Jim’s robe fell open as he began to explore John’s mouth.  Reaching down, he gripped John’s arse and spread the cheeks.  His erection then slid in between them, and he began to rut.  He wanted to claim John all over again, to sink down and leave love bites on his arse, to fuck him roughly into the headboard, to take him with such wild abandon that John would scream out his promise to stay with him.  However, he would make due with what he had.  And if he was lucky, he might get John to beg for his cock.

    “Oh, fuck,” John breathed, spreading his legs for Jim. With a slight shift of his hips, he brought himself closer and began to match Jim’s teasing little thrusts. Every knead of his fingers and each press of his cock coaxed whimpers and moans from John’s slender throat. The fear of being forgotten was cast aside as he found himself melting against Jim once again. As good as it felt to have Jim sliding against his skin, John wanted _more._

    “It sounds like someone needs Daddy’s cock inside of them,” Jim crooned, enthralled by all of John’s little noises.  They made his blood race through his veins. In all honesty, he wanted nothing more than to make them louder and far more desperate.

    “Y-yes.  God, yes, Daddy,” John moaned, scratching lightly at the back of his robe. “Please… m-may I?” he stammered. “May I have your cock?” He was soft and pliant in Jim’s arms, sighing with every caress.

    Jim moaned in response, never having heard words that sweet before.  Quickly, he removed the robe, located the lube, slathered it along his cock, and carefully flipped John onto his stomach.  “You’re about to find out what my favourite position is,” Jim growled into John’s ear before sliding into him.  This morning, he didn’t take nearly as much time.  John was _his_.  “Better?”

    John let out a long, obscene moan as Jim filled him. His low growl sent chills along John’s spine, and he shuddered beneath him. “A-ah! Yes, God,  _much_ better.” As his blood pounded in his ears, John took a chance and rolled his hips. “Move! Please move!”

    “Not yet,” Jim rasped out before tugging John up towards him.  Once they were back to chest, Jim began to fuck him.  “Yes, this is the best position.”  He reached down before teasingly stroking John’s cock with one hand and teasing one of his nipples with another.  Latching onto John’s neck, Jim nipped and sucked at the skin.  “Because it gives me full access to your body, but if I so choose-”  With that, he snapped his hips, ramming his cock into John.  “-I can still fuck you as you need.”

    When Jim pulled him onto knees, John dipped his back and stretched his arms forward. He couldn’t suppress a needy groan as Jim teased and touched him. Every brush of his fingers sent a thrill through John, and every bite made his body ache with desire. The sudden thrust rocked him forward, and he gasped, digging his fingers into the sheets. “Fuck!” he cursed, dropping his head. “Oh, my God.  Please don’t stop.”

    “Let me assure you, Johnny, that _that_ is the least of my intentions,” Jim groaned as he found a fluid pace.  Hand tightening around John’s cock, he stroked it faster.  But he knew better than to keep to any one location.  Before long, his hand pulled away from John’s cock and began to tease his other nipples.  His other hand, in the meantime, stroked down John’s side before giving John’s arse a testing spank in between thrusts.

    The loss of Jim’s hand around his length brought a groan of frustration to John’s lips. He turned his head to watch as Jim resumed his gentle squeezes. When his hand slapped against John’s arse, he let out a small yelp of pleasure. The faint sting sent a jolt through him, accompanied by a rush of adrenaline and a longing for more. “Harder, please,” John whispered. “You’d be surprised what I can take.”

    Misunderstanding, Jim began to thrust into him harder, using John’s hips in order to gain momentum and power.  He moaned upon feeling the lovely friction and warm tightness around his cock.  John’s body was simply made for him.

    As good as it felt to have Jim bucking into him, John wanted something different. “Daddy,” John cooed, rolling his hips in time with Jim’s. “I want you to _spank_ me harder.”

    Jim lost his rhythm when John said that.  “O-oh!” he exclaimed.  He hadn’t thought John to be the type, but he always surprised Jim.  Without warning, he spanked John’s arse again, this time harder.  He then paused, wanting to ensure that this was genuinely what John wanted.

    John moaned a little louder at the blow. “Yes!” He leaned his head back, resting it against Jim’s shoulder as his body arched toward him. He wanted more of Jim’s hand and the faint sting each strike left. John nodded, reassuring Jim that it was good.

    Once Jim received his confirmation, he spanked him again.  This time, though, he hit with the intent to leave John’s arse red.  He could only imagine how beautiful it would look in the end - heated and pink from its punishment.  “You’re going to have a hard time sitting tonight if you beg for more,” he reminded John, smiling knowingly.

    “Then I-I’ll stand,” John panted, flashing him a small grin. “Worth it. Christ! It’ll be worth it. Please, Daddy. Please don’t stop…” He dragged his bottom lip through his teeth and batted his lashes up at Jim.

    Jim could hardly object to that.  In fact, he could hardly say a word.  Upon hearing John beg and then flash him that look, Jim orgasmed without warning.  Curse words slipped from his lips as soon as he could form them.  Riding out his orgasm, he groaned and slumped forward slightly.  “My apologies.”

    John felt him spill inside of him and pressed down against his hips. “It’s fine,” he assured him, wrapping one hand around his cock. “Is it okay if I...”

    “N-no, let me,” Jim said in a rush, feeling guilty about coming before John.  He carefully pulled out of John’s arse.  He then flipped him over and let him lay on the mattress instead.  After all, John should be in perfect comfort and view for what was about to happen.  Replacing his cock with his fingers, Jim reached around and began to counterstroke John in accordance to the thrusts inside of him.

    John’s hips canted toward Jim’s hand. “R-right there!  Mmmnn…” He watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Jim stroked his cock. The thought of Jim’s fingers fucking into him, slick with his own release, was almost too much for him to bear. “Daddy,” John moaned as his legs began to tremble. “Just a little harder…” Already close to the edge, he knew it wouldn’t take much for him to finish.

    Jim nodded in acknowledgement, focusing too much to respond.  John looked stunning like this, legs spread open and body eagerly responding.  Although he would never admit it aloud, Jim wished he could take a photograph of this moment.  Not that he would ever show anyone, of course.  It would be for whenever he was feeling particularly lonely.  However, he would have to make due with the memory.  He would imagine John’s disheveled hair, the weighted lapse of his every breath, the way his body arched and moved, and the lovely sounds that he made.  He began to both fuck and stroke John harder and faster, wanting nothing more than to cause his orgasm.  “Come for me, baby,” he managed to groan out.

    The way Jim was drinking him in almost felt like worship. John raised his eyes, meeting Jim’s searing bourbon gaze, and he forgot how to breathe for a moment. Suddenly, his climax seized him.  He pulsed over Jim’s fist with a ragged cry, body tensing and curving with the force of his orgasm. “Jim!” he gasped, his hair damp with sweat.

    Jim took in the sight once more, knowing he would never get enough of it.  John’s wide eyes, his open mouth, the buck just before, the jerk after, the curling of the toes, and the arching of the back.  Altogether, it made the most spectacular image.  And Jim was the only one who knew.  That had to be the most intoxicating aspect of it all.  Jim was the only person in the world who knew what John Watson looked like whenever he was orgasming from being taken.

    A warm smile spread across his lips, and John giggled. “Mmn, come here.” He crooked his finger, beckoning Jim closer. “You’re too far away.”

    Jim chuckled before flopping down onto John teasingly.  He let his full weight press down onto him.  “Close enough?” he jested.

    “Much better,” John coughed, still smiling. He carded his fingers through Jim’s hair and kissed him lazily. “But I need to breathe.”

    “Are you calling me fat?”

    “I’m calling your elbow on my lungs,” John chuckled.

    Jim rolled off him before beaming.  Both of them were still in the full effects of post-coital bliss, but he couldn’t help but think John looked simply resplendent.  However, he sincerely doubted he could say as much, so he opted instead to joke, “If I didn’t need a shower before, I definitely do now.  I wasn’t expecting for quite a workout this morning.”

    “You should stay here and be beautiful and filthy a little longer,” John whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. To him, Jim seemed to be positively glowing, and his disheveled hair only made him look more gorgeous. “Not that you’re not beautiful when clean. You certainly are.”

    Chuckling, Jim kissed John on the nose.  “I’m in no hurry to be sure.”  It wouldn’t take much to convince him to stay here for the rest of the day, to be honest, with John looking like that.  He smiled before reaching up and petting John’s hair.  How brightly it seemed to shine now.  “How about dinner tonight after the concert?”

    “Dinner afterward,” John agreed. He tilted his head and leaned into Jim’s warm touch. “It’s a date.”

    Jim stroked John’s hair a bit longer, able to see just how much he enjoyed it.  “I have yet to eat,” he finally noted, glancing at the tray on the coffee table closest to John.  “Grape?” he inquired before popping open his mouth, mimicking a baby bird.

    John giggled and plucked one off the plate. He slipped it into Jim’s mouth. “Entirely illegal to look so good with your mouth open,” he teased.

    “Oh, I know.  Please don’t call the cops on me,” Jim jested right back before chewing carefully on the grape.  “That has to be the best grape I’ve ever tasted.  But I’m sure that’s only because your gorgeous fingers touched it before it entered my mouth.”  With that, he kissed at John’s fingers.  “Another?”

    “You could get away with anything, asking like that.” John grabbed the small vine and plucked another grape. After slipping it between Jim’s lips, he let his fingertips brush against them. “Anything at all…”

    “I’ll keep that in mind,” Jim replied, not taking much heed to John’s words.  After all, anyone would _say_ as much, but that didn’t mean that it was so.  He could hardly ask John to drop everything and join him on the final couple cities of the tour.  After finishing his grape, he murmured, “Thank you.”

    “You’re so welcome,” John breathed, kissing his jaw. “Need anything else? Clothes ironed, pillow fluffed, glass of milk?” He laughed and draped an arm over Jim’s waist. “I’ve got nothing else on, might as well utilize me as best you can.”

    Jim closed his eyes for a moment.  “You don’t have to do anything to be perfectly utilized.  However, I would not object to a bit of pillow fluffing.”

    As he reached over to adjust Jim’s pillow, John couldn’t help but smile. He looked so peaceful laying there, basking in the afterglow. For what was unlikely to be the last time, John considered his luck. Jim Moriarty - silent, content, stretched out, and naked on the sheets with sweat drying on his creamy skin - had chosen him. As he watched the deep rise and fall of Jim's chest, John felt a small smile tug at his lips. "It's kind of flattering," John said quietly. "I probably shouldn't think that, but I do."

    "What is?  My inviting you to join me again tonight?  Because I should let you know that I have the intention of luring you back to my secret lair for another night of passion."  He curled towards John and smiled.  “Or were you referring to something else?”

    “You inviting me for dinner, of course, but also - all of it. Feeding you grapes, fluffing your pillow, even you moving me to the back of the line. I was terrified, you know. I thought you didn't want to sign my things. Your aide moved me back, and I thought that surely you'd leave before the end. But you..." The words were pouring out of him, almost everything he’d wanted to say bubbling forth from his lips. "You wanted me around a little longer instead. It makes me feel special."

    "You are special," Jim stated, unable to understand how John didn’t get that already.  How could he not see how extraordinary he was?  How different he acted from everyone else?  How could he not comprehend that Jim’s interest in him wasn’t just superfluous?  He stared.  "I knew it the moment I saw you."

    “That’s kind of you to say.” John sank back down beside him, smiling. “And that means a lot to me. Really, Jim, it-it’s incredible, that you think that.”

    Jim grinned at him before reaching over and picking up a piece of bacon.  After munching on it a bit, he asked, "What’s your favourite song?"

    Picking one song wasn't going to be easy for him. John furrowed his brow and finished his own breakfast, going through each album in his mind. There were so many options. He could choose a ballad, or one of the faster anthems, or the darker-themed tracks... "That's - okay, I can - Shit, I've got so many. Gonna go with 'Flesh and Bone,' I think. Slow enough to almost be a ballad, kind of haunting, little sexy."

     "‘Flesh and Bone’ is your final answer?" Jim double-checked.

    "Yeah. Final answer."

    "Interesting choice.  I thought you would have gone with - well, not that one."  With that, Jim retrieved another piece of bacon, the plans already solidifying in his mind.

    "Not what one?" John asked. “Do I seem like I’d have a different type of favourite song?”

    “Mmhmm.  But then again, I wouldn’t have guessed you were a fan of mine.  You just look so…”  Innocent - considerate - pure - wholesome - proper - kind.  The list went on and on.  “I don’t know whether or not to be proud or concerned that my music connects to you.”

    “Proud, probably. Reaching a wider audience is never bad. Is it really so strange that I’m not part of the all-black-heavy-eyeliner crowd? Nothing against the style, of course, but I’m low-maintenance.” John grinned up at him. “And my tastes vary. It keeps people guessing.”

     “It certainly does,” Jim responded.  By now, his sweat was beginning to dry, and he felt filthy.  “I really must take a shower, though.  Do you mind being left here all alone for a bit?”  He ruffled John’s hair.  “Or are you going to insist to join me?”

    The thought of sharing a shower with Jim and watching the warm water cascade over his skin sent chills down John’s spine. “Well, I’d like to, but I doubt we’d get very clean.” He giggled and stretched back on the mattress. “I’ll be fine here.”

    Jim chuckled.  “We would get clean if only because I would be the one who did the cleaning,” he replied before kissing John’s forehead.  Stretching, he heard his back crack several times.  He then rolled off the bed and onto the floor with a grunt before dragging himself to his feet and towards the bathroom.  “Don’t mind me.  I’m just getting too old for this.”

    “You’re not old,” John called after him. He stared openly as Jim crossed to the bathroom, humming appreciatively.

    “I hear you objectifying me,” Jim called back, not even looking behind him.

    “If I said I was sorry, I’d be lying.” With a chuckle, John closed his eyes and gave Jim privacy.

    Jim paused.  “Don’t forget your parents, Johnny.   I don't exactly want to be arrested for kidnapping... again," he joked.

    Jim then closed the bathroom door before heading over to the shower and turning on the hot water.  God, how he needed a good soak.  He wanted to feel the warmth penetrate deep into his muscles and relieve some of the tension.  He was getting old.  Nowadays, he could feel it in his bones.  Stunts weren’t as easy as they used to be, and performing took more energy out of him than before.  In all honesty, it seemed ages ago when he could perform and then go out clubbing for the rest of the night before getting two hours sleep and doing it all over again.  But he never complained.  After all, he just celebrated his twenty-seventh birthday.  He wasn’t _that_ old, right?  Letting out a confused groan, he slipped into the shower.

     "I should probably call them.” John rummaged around in his jeans for his mobile. When it was clasped firmly in his hands, he headed into the foyer and dialed his father.

    "John?! Where the fuck are you?!" As always, his father was a shining beacon of parental concern.

    "Hello, sir," John answered, fighting back a sarcastic reply. "I’m sorry I didn’t come home last night. I missed the Tube after the show, and a friend offered to let me stay with them. I might stay tonight, too."

    "You didn't fucking think to call Harry for a ride? She would have picked you up! You know there's a curfew, John! In bed by midnight, every night!”

    "There's only a curfew when it's _convenient_ ," John shot back through clenched teeth. "I did my chores before I left, my homework's done, and it’s _Saturday._  There's no reason I can't spend one more night here. Please, sir, this is _really_ important to me." As he spoke, John paced around the sofa. Speaking to his father was the last thing he wanted to do, but it was necessary. John didn’t think Richard Watson would call the police to chase John down - after all, that would shine a light on his “punishment techniques” - but Jim didn’t need to deal with it if he did.

    "Your mother was up all night, worried sick, keeping my arse awake while she nattered on about her precious fucking boy all alone in London. It’s your fucking fault I didn't get any sleep, and you expect me to let you stay gone? No. Come home. Now. Or it'll be your fucking hide."

    He didn't care. He didn't care about the consequences. Being around Jim made John feel safe. He had bodyguards, for one thing, and his father didn't know who he was with. Courage blossomed in his chest and he snorted into the microphone, talking back to his father for the first time in his life. "No. I'm not coming home until I'm ready. I'm seventeen, make good marks, and am more than well-behaved. I _need_ one more night. I'll catch the Tube tomorrow, and you can deal with me then. But not tonight." John ended the call as his father started to shout into the receiver. He knew exactly what awaited him when he finally returned to the house his family shared.  He’d most likely be grounded for a week, whipped until he couldn’t sit, and mired with more chores than he could feasibly finish in a day. If he was lucky, Richard Watson wouldn’t take his bedroom door off the hinges this time. John pushed the thoughts away and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not right now,” he whispered, taking a breath. “I don’t want to deal with this right now.” He just wanted to spend his last night with Jim, free of the punishment looming over his head. Jim was all that mattered.

    With a towel around his waist, Jim stepped out of the bathroom.  “Sorry that took so long,” he called out before drying his hair with a smaller towel.  “I didn’t realize they put a jacuzzi in there.  There’s a definite need to try it out tonight.”  He smiled at John, but he could tell that something was wrong.  When he had left, John had been all smiles, giddiness, and post-coital bliss.  Now, he seemed as though he was agitated and on edge.  “Did you - um - did you remember to call your parents?”

    The jacuzzi sounded nice to John. It was certainly something to look forward to. He forced a smile and nodded at Jim. “Yeah, I called them. Everything’s fine. They - uh - they want me home tomorrow, but I’m good for tonight.” Lying to Jim felt like a violation of every rule he had, but John didn’t want to worry him. It wasn’t something Jim needed to know.

    “I hope you didn’t have to spend too much time convincing them,” Jim offered.  “I can’t imagine that any parent would be thrilled to hear their child is hanging out with _me._  Especially not with what all of the tabloids say.”  He knew it well enough - illegal drugs, underaged sex, prescriptions, affairs - and the only way to fight it was to defy it at every turn.  Anyone who knew him knew better than to believe that.  However, parents, most of whom depended entirely on the tabloids for information, usually believed what they read.

    “Well, I didn’t exactly tell them. I said I kipped on a friend’s sofa. They don’t need to know I spent the night in Jim Moriarty’s penthouse, do they? As long as they know I’m safe.”

    Jim was unreasonably hurt by those words.  Of course John lied.  Why would he want his parents to know what he was actually doing?  Being with Moriarty was something to be ashamed about, after all.  “Yeah,” he managed to answer.  “That’s what’s important.  You’re safe.”

    There it was. That shadow appeared again, flickering across Jim’s dark eyes. “I-I didn’t want you to get in trouble, I just...  With everything the gossip rags say, another set of angry parents-”

    “It’s alright.”  Swallowing hard, Jim glanced around, trying to find something new to discuss.  This wasn’t a topic he particularly desired exploring with John anyway.  As if he hadn’t heard that excuse before, and he knew he would hear it again.  “You should shower.”

    John hung his head and looked away. “Right. I’ll just… Okay.” He walked into the bathroom and closed the door. _Stupid. Fucking stupid. You keep upsetting him!_ John thumped his head against the tile, squeezing his eyes closed as he scolded himself. He dragged himself into the shower and washed himself off, taking his time beneath the hot spray. John wasn’t sure he could fix whatever he’d done wrong. _I told him! I told him I wasn’t going to brag. Shouldn’t he be relieved?_ It didn’t make sense to him.

    When he was finished, John dried off and wrapped a towel around his waist. He padded back into the bedroom with his head down and weighed his clothing options. They were slim: the outfit from the night before or nothing at all. He hadn't expected to stay out all night, so there had been no reason to bring a change of clothes with him. John opted for the towel instead, laying back on the bed and sipping his smoothie in silence.

    Having gone off to make some tea, Jim slipped back into the bedroom with his mug.  "A jumper, I think," he stated before fishing through his own clothing.  "I have a white and blue striped one.  My mum gave it to me for Christmas.  She's never been a fan of my... style."

    John grinned. "Can't imagine why. Also can't imagine you in a jumper."

    "She doesn't want to have to," Jim joked before tossing it over to John.  "I can't do anything about your trousers, but I'm sure I have a pair of boxers that'll fit you.  Unless you find that a bit too vulgar.  I can never keep up with people and their intimacy issues."

    He caught the jumper and pulled it over his head. "I was going to offer to go without, but your way's hotter." John smiled up at him, a little more at ease. It was clear Jim wasn’t _too_ upset with him if he was offering to share his pants.

    "I don't know.  It's pretty hot to think about you going commando," Jim replied with a grin before chucking a pair of pants at John as well.

    John slipped them up his hips, letting the elastic snap against his skin. "You ever know, I might change before dinner. Slip back to your dressing room after the show, take them off…”

    Groaning at that mental image, Jim responded, “I would definitely be late to signing autographs.”  With that, he picked out a shirt for himself before tugging it on.  He had already put on a pair of pants and trousers whilst John was in the shower, but then tea had distracted him.  “Days like today are the best," he confessed.  "I don't have to go anywhere until tonight.  They'll come fetch me in two hours so I can go get changed and put in makeup and rehearse.  You'll, of course, come with me."

    "That won't be a problem? Me tagging along? I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

    "Not if I say it's not," Jim informed him.  "They wouldn't dare upset me, and my manager would ruin them if they sold any information or photos about it."

    "I'll stay out of the way,” John assured him. “Just in case.”

    "Alright.  If that makes you feel better," Jim answered.  They had only a few hours left to themselves before he had to go back to work.  However, having a warm body by his side was - at the very least - comforting.  It was rare that someone would actually stay with him for longer than a night.  Again and again, John proved himself to be different from the average fan.  How different, though, would have to be seen.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a second stolen evening with Jim, and another incredible performance, John finally has to say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the reads, the kudos, and the bookmarks/subscriptions! We're working really hard on this piece, and every bit of support keeps up writing and editing :D

    After the makeup, the wardrobe, and one stolen kiss, John was shuffled off to a seat in front of the stage. He sat back and stared up at the waiting instruments and microphones. There was something haunting about an empty stage, devoid of the performers that breathed life into it. Soon, the doors would open, and the crowd would flow in around him, surging into their places and chatting away until the lights went down. As if on cue, the venue began to fill, and John was pulled from his thoughts. He felt a sense of pride burning in his chest as the girls filling the seats on either side of him chatted about how gorgeous Jim was and how important his music was to them. They hadn't the slightest idea of how amazing he actually was.

    Jim took a deep breath in, able to hear the cheering of the crowd as they waited for him to emerge.  Before the show, John had been placed front and centre.  He wasn’t sure if that made him more or less nervous about performing tonight.  However, he did know that it was nice to have someone he knew in the sea of faceless bodies.  It was so different.  The atmosphere had changed, the adrenaline stronger, and his body thrummed with more energy than ever before.

    As the lights slowly rose, the roar of the crowd echoed in his ears.  They were all here to see him.  That always blew his mind.  These people were cheering for _him_.  They had bought tickets to see _him_.  All of their eyes were fixed on _him_.  However, Jim’s eyes immediately began to search for John.  He located him with ease.

    "Good evening, London!" he called out, and the stadium went wild.  "Are you ready to have the best night of your lives?"  The cheers got even louder, which was surprising given how loud they were before.  "That's what I want to hear!  And here we go!"

    With that, the music to the first song began.

    When the lights came back up, Jim stood mere feet away from where John sat.  He was already grinning coyly and calling out to the crowd. John shouted and screamed with the rest of them, voice mingling with the thousands who came for the second show. Tonight, he knew it would be more intimate even with the larger number of fans who’d turned out for the show. Things had changed. John wasn’t just a stranger, and Jim wasn’t just an idol. That had altered the moment Jim steered him toward the hotel. Jim was a person now, down from the pedestal John had raised him on. He woke with his hair messy and fluffy, he snored a bit, and he hated getting up.  And John was one of the privileged few who got to see him as such.

    The music poured from the speakers, and Jim began to sing. To John, the crowd melted away into emptiness. Jim was all that existed in the entire world, all leather and fire and marble skin as John watched him with adoration. There was a thread of lust in his gaze, red and heavy and desperate. Jim’s voice washed over John, enveloping him and flowing through his veins like opium.

    Once his second song came to an end, Jim decided to divert from his original schedule.  "Thank you for the warm welcome!" Jim called out, smiling out to the darkness.  He couldn't see past the first couple of rows, but that hardly mattered since John was right in his eyesight.  "London has been so kind to me in more ways than I can say.  Which is saying something since I am thoroughly Irish."  That earned him a hearty laugh from the crowd.  "There’s actually someone in particular who has shown me a great deal of warmth since arriving.  This person's self-claimed favourite song, although it was given under duress, is 'Flesh and Bone.'  So this one is for you, and you know exactly who you are."  With that, Jim glanced down at John and gave him a quick wink.

    It didn’t take long for John to realize what was happening. He covered his face and shook his head. _Oh, you bastard,_ he thought as his heart fluttered in his chest. If he hadn't been so head-over-heels that morning, he might have seen it coming when Jim asked, but there had been breakfast between them, and a rock god to kiss, and John hadn't been thinking clearly. He spread his fingers and peeked through them at Jim, his face flushing a deep red.

    "Ugh, how lucky!" the redhead next to him exclaimed. John grinned behind his hands. Lucky, indeed, though the extent of his luck might have blown her mind. He knew he was the luckiest man in London, though, and that was all that mattered. Jim had brought him back to share an evening with him, had worshipped his body with hands and lips, and now? Now, he was singing _to_ John, live and on stage in front of a massive crowd.

    Jim couldn't help himself.  Although the lights were almost blinding, Jim could still make John out.  He looked too adorable hiding behind his hands like that.  However, Jim wanted to see John’s face, and he knew just how to do it.  Without missing a note, he walked forward before slowly sinking to his knees in front of him.  "Merely flesh and bones," he sang out, hitting the chorus a second time.  With that, he reached forward for John's hand, unable to keep himself from grinning mischievously.  "That's the state you've left me in."

    The girls cooed and screamed, and John lowered his hands to take the one Jim offered him. Licking his lips, he pressed against the barrier, letting his fingers caress the smooth skin of Jim’s wrist. His eyes were threatening to water. John blinked rapidly, forcing his vision to clear, as he smiled up at Jim. This moment was his - _theirs_ \- and if he lived to be two hundred, he knew he'd never forget it.

    For a moment, Jim let John have this.  “In this darkness, you found me.  And in this darkness, you-”  Suddenly, another hand touched his wrist. The connection was immediately broken, and Jim ripped his hand away out of instinct.  “-left me behind.  Behind!”  He remembered the last time he had reached out, and one girl had nearly yanked him off the stage.  Once again, Jim was reminded why he couldn’t allow himself to get lost in the moment.  There was too much happening - too much that could happen - too much he had to be aware of.

    John snapped his head to the side, scowling at the girl beside him. Anger surged, burning his throat as he fixed her with a glare. Of course someone would be greedy. Of _course_ their moment would be ruined. It wasn’t allowed. Jim didn’t belong to him.  He belonged to the paying fans who came to watch him perform, and, in the heat of the moment, John had allowed himself to think otherwise.

    The look on John's face was enough for him to disregard his own personal rules.  Once again, he reached down and took John’s hand into his own.  "Flesh and bones!" Jim sang before leaning down and ghosting his lips over John's fingers.  It was as close as he dared to get.  He smiled, released the captive hand, and stood up.  "Even when I scream your name, I know you will not call," he continued to sing, still keeping his eyes locked on John, wanting to savour that look on his face just a bit longer.

    John had never felt anything quite like Jim's soft, sinful lips against his pads of his fingers. As Jim pulled back, John pressed his fingers to his own mouth in return. They'd have time after the show - time for John to memorize the feel of Jim’s stubble against his skin, to trace the contours of his body, and to pepper his throat with kisses. There was still plenty of the performance left, but afterwards, there would be only them.

    The girls beside him caught sight of his throat in a flash of the spotlights and began to grill him about Jim's gesture. John ignored their questions as best he could. He didn’t trust himself not to snap at the one who’d dared to touch Jim. Instead, he forced himself to focus on Jim, his stormy eyes gleaming in the shifting lights of the stage. He could feel the tears rising again as he listened to the song wind down. _It can't last. It won't. I'm just a groupie, and he's a rock god. I'll go home tomorrow feeling empty and alone, my father'll kick the shit out of me, and I'll be stuck at home cleaning up after that fucking pig for another year. Jim'll forget the blond boy he met in London, and I'll wonder if any of this ever happened. But right now, it's real. Right now, we've got the_ _world at our feet._

    Jim finished up the song and smiled in John’s direction.  He hoped that John enjoyed that, especially since Magnussen was going to hand Jim his own arse for deviating from the schedule.  However, John was worth it.  It was worth it to see his brilliant smile and wide eyes.  When Jim had become so smitten with him, he wasn’t sure.  What mattered, though, was that he was.  Jim Moriarty was positively smitten with adorable John Watson.  Too bad it could never last…

    After singing a few more songs, he took a minute to break and sat down on the stage.  “I just need a drink.”  A cheer roared out.  “Thank you all for being so supportive of my hydration needs.”  With that, he gulped down some water.  “As you all know, tonight’s my last night in London.  All of you are remarkably lucky to get tickets.  I heard they were sold out in under an hour!  Thank you!”  Another cheered echoed around him, and he took that moment to drink a bit more.  Did he dare to bring it up?  Magnussen was probably already angry enough with him, but if Jim said it aloud, it would heighten the chances of it happening.  “I’m hoping to come back here soon, actually.  Once this tour is over, I think I’ll record my next album here.  What do you all think of that?”

    Jim, coming back to London? John screamed with the rest of the venue, though for entirely different reasons. It was hard to stay realistic when the thought of Jim returning was so loud and fresh in his mind. There were a few more cities on the tour, but after that... Another album, right there in London, where John could spend more time with him. "Please," he whispered, closing his eyes. "Please record here."

    Jim grinned at all of them.  After all, Magnussen wouldn’t want to let these fans down.  He might tear Jim a new arsehole for saying anything, but he would have to give in.  And maybe if Jim came back, John would be able to spend time with him.  Maybe - if only until John went off to uni - they could have a semi-normal romantic relationship.  It was a lot to hope for, especially since John’s parents would probably never approve.  That, and if the paparazzi grasped hold of the information, Jim’s sales would most likely plummet.  But it was worth a shot.   _John_ was worth the shot.  "You all are fantastic.  Ready for the rest of the concert?" he exclaimed.

    Screams roared through the crowd in response with John lending his voice to the cacophonous cry. He was ready now. He could face the end of the show with the hope that tonight might not be their last. It was foolish, part of him whispered, but he couldn't let it it go. He couldn't let Jim go.

    The second part of the concert always seemed to go slower than the first part.  Although it was - in fact - longer, it wasn't _that_ much longer.  Or, perhaps, it was more so the fact that Jim knew what tonight had in store for him.  Once Jim managed to get through this one last song, he would be able to be by John’s side once more.  It was curious, really, how John had managed to so thoroughly weasel his way into Jim’s life.  Already, it felt as though there was something more there.  And then Jim remembered John’s lie to his parents and that he was still in college and about to go to uni.  It would probably be somewhere far away, too, and then he would get immersed in his studies, and then-

    “Stop!” Jim suddenly stated, his mind having become overloaded with the information.  He had a habit of verbally shushing himself whenever he needed his brain to stop functioning.  However, he usually kept mind of where he was.  This time, he had slipped up.  Everyone had heard him suddenly say stop - at least it was the end of the song - and he began to turn red with embarrassment.  Freezing, he tried to think of a way to get out of this situation.  “It seems like a lot of fantastic songs have that command in them, yeah?  ‘Stop.  Hammertime.’  ‘Stop in the name of love before you break my heart.’ ‘Stop, collaborate, and listen.’  I don’t think I have a song that uses that word yet.  But you all think my music’s still good, yeah?”

    John frowned a little as Jim kept speaking. It felt like he was stalling or maybe just speaking to himself. Babbling is how he’d label it if someone asked him. But no one was asking. More shouts and cheers bubbled up in response, but John sat back and kept quiet. Something seemed  _off_.

    As the cheers answered his question, Jim relaxed slightly.  Perhaps he had pulled it off after all.  He smiled before exclaiming, “Thank you so much, London!  As always, you astound me with your kindness.”  He then signalled for the next song to start.  After all, he desperately needed a distraction.  He needed to stop looking so distantly into the future and focus on the present.  Without another hint as to the difficulties on his mind, he went into the final song, making sure to get into proper position so the water effect would drench him.

    Whatever seemed to be plaguing Jim was pushed away, and John watched him return to a more normal demeanor. It was the strangest thing he’d ever witnessed. One moment, Jim was speaking rapidly and almost nonsensically, and the next, he was… well, Jim. His shoulders rose, his chin lifted, the shadow that John had seen in the hotel room vanished. It was a bit of a relief. John sat forward, waiting eagerly for the trick with the water. That would end the set, and then… _Then we get to have dinner,_ he thought with a small smile.

    The end of the song arrived, and Jim felt the water cascade down his body, enveloping him in its icy touch.  Shuddering, he grinned when he heard the shrieks of elated fans.  "Thank you!  Good night!" he exclaimed before starting to head backstage.  Just as he was about to disappear, he remembered that he had left John behind.  He also knew that there was a large possibility of John being escorted from the building if no one recognised him.  Quickly, he turned on his heels and addressed the first security guard he could find.  He pointed towards John.  “The blond male at the front there is a particular friend of mine, and I require for him to be escorted backstage.   _Please_.”

    With that, the security guard motioned over to his friend before he headed over towards John.  “Sir,” he called out, motioning for John to not move.

    Ever obedient, John stayed where he was. The girls who’d hounded him and ruined the song both gave him enthusiastic waves as they headed toward the aisle. Somehow, he managed to summon up a smile for them, even though he didn’t particularly feel like they deserved one. Little by little, the noise began to fade until he was one of the last people in a seat.

    “Greetings, Mr Moriarty’s particular friend,” the security guard greeted.  He then reached over and pulled John over the barrier with ease.  “Your presence is requested backstage.”

    The fear from the night before didn’t resurface as the guard lifted him over the barrier. He was weirdly polite as he spoke to John. “Alright,” he responded. “Thank you.”

    Just as the security guard rounded the corner with John, Jim snapped at Magnussen, “No, I _am_ getting changed tonight.  You cannot stop me!”

    “Jim, it’s a smaller crowd than last night-”

    “No.  N. O.  No,” Jim stated before seeing John.  He blanched slightly, knowing Magnussen would notice.  That was probably the last thing either of them needed.  Letting out a shaky breath, he returned his gaze back to Magnussen.  “I’m changing.  You go woo them or do whatever it is you do.”

    Magnussen pursed his lips, obviously giving in on the argument, and turned on his heels.  Immediately, his gaze fell onto John’s form, and he raised one eyebrow.  “The backstage Meet and Greet queue is the other way, son.”

    “I-I’m a friend of Jim’s. He asked me to come back after the show.” John gestured to the guard beside him. “You can ask him if you need confirmation.” The tall, slender man made John’s skin crawl, but he needed to get back to the dressing room.

    “A _friend_ of Jim’s?” Magnussen echoed, his lips barely curling up.  “I suppose that is one way of putting it.”

    “John,” Jim barked.  He shouldered his way past Magnussen and grabbed John’s hand before tugging him forward.  “Ignore him.  He’s not worth your time.”

    “For once, I actually agree with you,” Magnussen replied.

    “I wasn’t talking to you,” Jim bit back before ushering John into his room.

    John glared up at the man as Jim tugged him toward the back of the hall. With just a few words, Jim’s manager had managed to tear down any confidence John had been clinging to. He was just a groupie. What had he done to deserve Jim’s attention? _Nothing,_ John thought as he crossed into Jim’s dressing room. _I’ve done nothing to deserve this._

    Jim closed the door and could see the state Magnussen had left John in.  His shoulders were slumped, his head hanging, and there wasn’t that spark in his eyes anymore.  After watching John enjoy the entirety of the concert - even giving him a rendition of his favourite song - Magnussen was able to tear all of that away in just a few words.  Never before had Jim hated him so much.  After all, he could forgive Magnussen of plenty of things, but _this_ was one step too far.  “Hey, look at me,” he murmured before tilting John’s chin up.  “Don’t you dare let him get into your head.  He just likes manipulating people.  That’s why he’s an agent and manager.”  With that, he tentatively kissed John, not sure if John would even want it after the implications given.

    Jim’s words didn’t help, but the soft press of lips eased some of the doubts clouding John’s mind. He kissed Jim back, carefully cupping his jaw as if he were made of glass. Fragile. Fleeting. He could leave at any moment. Closing his eyes, John stroked his thumb over Jim’s soft skin, silently praying he wouldn’t see how bland John really was.

    Happily, Jim pressed forward once he received a reassurance that John at least didn’t mind the kiss.  John’s lips were so soft and warm against his.  In all honesty, he couldn’t help but think about how lovely it would be if he always had this.  John was spectacular.  All he had to do was kiss Jim, and Jim was left with butterflies and knots.  He slowly broke the kiss before pressing their foreheads together.  “Oh, Johnny,” he breathed out.

    “Yeah?” John asked, raising his eyes up. The closeness eased some of the pain in his chest. Jim, his body leaning against his, and the heat of his breath ghosting against John’s skin all drew him back to the moment and away from the darkness of Magnussen’s words.

    There was so much that Jim could say - _wanted_ to say - but he merely smiled.  “I have _got_ to get out of these wet clothes,” he stated before pulling back.  After ruffling John's hair, Jim began to peel off each article piece by piece.  They needed something to distract themselves with, especially after the whole Magnussen incident.  "Was it any good tonight?  The concert, I mean," he asked.

    John managed to grin and turned to watch him change. "Oh, I don't know, last night is pretty hard to top," he teased. Tonight, of course, was far better than the previous evening. A song sang just to him, Jim’s touch during, the potential promise of recording in London...

    "Someone's gotten cheeky, I see," Jim teased.

    John turned away and cleared his throat. "It was wonderful, sorry."

    Jim grimaced.  He shouldn’t have jabbed at John like that, especially with the Magnussen encounter so fresh in both of their minds.  "It's alright to be cheeky, you know.  I like it.  Like a secret side of you that I get to see."

    "Well, if I pulled that anywhere else, it would be a bit not good.” That, of course, was putting it mildly. His father would have slapped him for being so bold. “I shouldn't tease you like that, anyway. Not after how kind you’ve been to me."

    Jim tugged on his dry shirt.  "But you aren't anywhere else," he stated as he looked over at John.  "You're here with me.  I can handle teasing.  It's been too long since anyone besides Magnussen has dared to.  So please, don't censor yourself."

    John took a breath and faced him once more. "Alright. If it doesn't bother you or put you off, I'll try not to hold back.”

    "Honestly, Johnny, I think your issue is that you worry too much about me and not enough about you," Jim stated before pulling on his jacket.  "Come on.  I have autographs to sign."

    John caught his hand before he could grab the doorknob. "One second, you forgot something important." He cupped Jim's head in his free hand and leaned in, kissing him deeply. A soft hum slipped from his throat as he nipped at Jim’s lower lip.

    Jim grinned against John's lips before giving back as good as he received.  When he felt himself starting to become aroused, though, he forced himself to separate from John.  "Down, Tiger," he jested before pulling back.  "I can't go out there with an erection."

 _Whoops._ John flushed and nodded. "Sorry! Sorry. Right. I bet they would like that, though. Alright, go make the fans happy. I'll be nearby." He let go of Jim’s hand and followed him out, making sure to keep a respectable distance between them. Sure, the fans would enjoy the sight of Jim’s excitement, but John didn’t want to share that with anyone. While Jim signed items and took photos, John leaned against the wall near the hallway. He was out of the way and out of sight of the crowd.

    Once again, Jim was forced to fulfill his duties.  Tonight, the queue was definitely shorter.  The first three girls were giggly but respectful.  The fourth one grabbed his arse and was escorted from the premises.  The fifth person was a male, and he immediately tried to network as Jim signed his new album.  He knew this guy was probably here in hopes of making a connection in the industry and not because he was a genuine fan.  After dismissing him, Jim signed for the last ten people, all of whom were also respectful.  He relaxed and looked over at John, his eye probably conveying just how much he needed to escape.

    Poor Jim looked ready to bolt. John smiled at him and approached, wary of onlookers and Magnussen. “Everything fine?” he asked casually.

    “Everything’s always fine,” Jim answered vaguely before wrapping an arm around John’s shoulders.  He turned him away and started down the hallway, planning on leaving through the side exit instead of the main one.

    There was something ominous beneath Jim’s answer. As they exited the concert hall, John turned his head to watch the lights play off Jim’s striking features. “Luck” wasn't strong enough to describe what was happening to him. "I've been looking forward to this all night," he remarked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

    “As have I,” Jim confessed as a car stopped to pick them up.  He opened up the door for John to enter first.  "We have a dinner reservation at Gordon Ramsay's London House.  The beef wellington is simply superb."

    John climbed into the back seat and chuckled. "Oh, God. Okay, yeah, I'll order that." He wondered vaguely if he’d be underdressed for their date.  After all, day-old jeans weren’t exactly romantic dress.

    Jim slid in and closed the door.  As soon as there was a barrier between him and the outside world, he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.  "I'm sorry to be such an improper host, but I need a moment to myself."  He didn’t want to brag, but the post-concert high was one of the best feelings that Jim ever had. It was exhilarating to think that he had managed to get through yet another concert in front of thousands of fans who had turned out just to listen to him sing.  All of those eyes had been fixated on him.  The rush was intoxicating.

    A little disheartened, John nodded and turned to look out the window. Jim deserved as much privacy as he could give him. He watched the city roll by beneath the dark tinting. Every colour was made less vivid through the privacy-darkened glass. Silence stretched around them, opening the doors to John’s fears about his situation. Jim was world-famous, which complicated things immensely. John was a teenager - another mark against them. Among a crowd, John knew he didn’t stand out. Tow-haired, short, with a nose too wide to be attractive… _plain_. He was so very, very plain. What exactly did Jim see in him?

    Jim lost himself in his own mind, still feeling the adrenaline from being on stage.  Tonight had been so different.  With John there, Jim found it harder to concentrate and yet more pressured to get everything perfect.  He had also stepped out of bounds in order to comfort John and make him feel special.  In a way, John was.  It wasn’t anything that Jim could definitively pin down, but he felt differently around John than anyone else before.  Swallowing hard, he didn't want to think about their future.  Leaning over, he rested against John and continued to breathe deeply.  For now, they had tonight.  Things would get sorted out later - he was sure - but he just needed to stop worrying for a while and _breathe_.

    As soon as he registered the weight on his shoulder, John turned and pressed a kiss to Jim's hair. Something was clearly weighing on his mind. He could feel the tension hovering in the back of the car, thick enough to choke on. John laced their fingers together and gave him a comforting squeeze. Despite his own internal morosity, he wanted to show Jim that everything was alright.

    Suddenly, Jim wanted to get the food as takeaway.  He wanted to head back to the hotel, curl up on their bed, turn on some crap telly show, and eat there.  He wanted to press his ear to John’s stomach.  He wanted to spend at least an hour talking to John whilst staring into his eyes.  Oh, how much he wanted.  But he couldn't ask that of John after promising to take him out to dinner.  Besides which, John _deserved_ a treat.  Humming, he squeezed John's hand back before smiling.  "I am glad you had a good night..."

    "It's going to be better now," John answered. "Just us. No screaming, no blinding lights, no pressure. Not that this isn't already the best night of my life!  It has been.  God knows it has been." John really did appreciate every risk Jim had taken for him that night, from the stunt onstage to bringing him back despite Magnussen’s disapproval. He’d made the night perfect.

    Jim smiled at John's naïveté.  There was always pressure - always would be pressure - and what Jim was doing could easily ruin his career if it was found out.  However, none of that mattered.  He was running on borrowed time anyway.  He had hit the height of his glory, and it could only go downhill from here.  Less venues.  Less fans.  Less everything.  And then what would he be left with?  "Nothing," he whispered to himself before sitting up straight.  "Oh! We're here."

    John frowned a little at Jim’s muttered word. As soon as Jim slid out through the back door, he followed after him, walking a few paces behind. Jim's moods had shifted before, in the hotel and later onstage. John licked his lips nervously. Was it his fault? Had he done something wrong? Even though it meant he was left alone with his thoughts, John had given him the privacy he’d requested. Was there something he was missing?  "Hey, listen, Jim, if you're not - um - up to this, we don't have to do it. There might be paps, and I know you're probably exhausted." It was a weak effort, John knew, but he wanted to put it out there just in case. Jim didn’t need to risk his career, and certainly not for a date.

    "I promised you dinner," Jim cut in stubbornly.  "And dinner you shall have.  If nothing else, I am a man of my word."  With that, he forced a smile before ruffling John’s hair.  “But I appreciate your consideration.”  With that, he stepped inside.

    The host openly appraised both of them, his eyes lingering on John.  “Do you need directions, sir?” he inquired, obviously thinking they weren’t in the proper place.

    “No.  Jim Moriarty.”

    Immediately, the host straightened up and masked any judgement.  “Of course, Mr Moriarty.  Please, follow me.”

    Both of them were seated, and the waiter came over.  Out of habit, Jim ordered, "Two beef wellingtons, both medium rare, and a nice, red wine to compliment them.  Two house salads for the appetizers, and... John, do you have any requests?"

    John shook his head. "No, that's perfect." He wasn’t sure he’d even know what to order if he wanted anything extra. He toyed idly with the tablecloth. Worrying was ridiculous, and he understood that, but the anxiety kept gnawing at his gut.

    The waiter went off, and Jim turned his attention back to John.  It was obvious that he was nervous.  Hoping to help him out, Jim said, "This is my first date in a while.  I don't even remember what people usually talk about."

    "You could always tell me a little about yourself. I'm a good listener." Part of him hoped Jim would express whatever was bothering him, but John knew it was a long shot.

    Humming, Jim responded, "My life isn't all that remarkable, and you can read it just about anywhere online.  Born and raised in Ireland.  Caught a lucky break.  Been riding the wave for as long as possible.  And I have no idea what I'll do once the wave dissipates."  He flushed after saying that, not having planned to divulge that much.  However, John’s sympathetic gaze had coaxed it out of him.

    "Do you honestly expect me to believe what they print in the tabloids?" John teased. "Thought you might appreciate someone genuinely interested.” He cocked his head, catching the colour on Jim’s cheeks. “What do you mean, when it dissipates? Why would it?"

    "Because it has to," Jim informed him.  "I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase ‘all good things must come to an end.’  That includes careers.  Right now, I'm in my golden years.  But in two years?  In three?  Someone else will be the next hot thing, selling out concerts in London, and I'll probably be on some crap telly quiz show."

    John frowned. “That's a bleak way of looking at your future. Even if you retire, you'll have plenty of money. Your albums will never stop selling even if you stop making music. You can settle down, have a family, relax…”

    With that, Jim let out a bitter laugh.  "Yeah, that's the life I want," he remarked sarcastically.  "I want 2.5 kids, a car, and to either retire or find another career.  Sounds absolutely fantastic."  He shook his head.  "Success comes with a price, and mine is the fall.  I will eventually become a nobody again, and I fear what will happen to me at that point.  But there's no stopping it, and I refuse to let it drag me down.  Once I get there, I'll handle it, but right now, I'm still a star."  With that, the waiter brought over their wine and poured it.  "What about you, John?  What exactly is your future looking like?"

    "I told you. I enlist. I get into Uni, get my medical degree, go get shot at in the desert. It's better than staying here." John sighed and took a slow drink of his wine. "It’s better than rolling over and accepting what life throws at me." He paused a second. It was clear that the future was what had been eating at Jim in the car. His comments had the feel of being well-contemplated and well-rehearsed. Jim probably ran them through his mind after every show, after every tour, after every studio session. His fall, the decline of media interest, his fate, all in a never-ending loop of impending demise. "I never said you wanted that boring suburban life, but don't you at least want a partner? Something more than random blonds backstage at your shows?"

   "Of course I do," Jim chided before taking a huge gulp of wine.  "Who doesn't want to fall in love and have that one person by their side?  But perhaps you noticed how many celebrities are single or have terrible relationships.  I'm never in one place long enough, and when I do find someone I'm interested in, they... they can never come with me.  It never goes anywhere.  It can't because they have a job or school or family or friends or pets, and I have to go somewhere else and try again.  Eventually, you just have to accept the futility of the situation."

    John drained his glass. "Oh. I suppose, yeah." Their date wasn’t off to a very promising start.

    Without thinking, Jim poured him another one.  "It's not like it can be helped.  I can't just cancel the rest of my tour, and no one can drop everything and travel with me."  He looked up at John.  After John’s reaction to Magnussen’s comment, he had a feeling that he could deduce the roots to some of John’s anxiety.  "My bed is empty more often that you think.  Trust me."

    John lifted the glass to his lips again, drinking a little slower this time. "Who says someone can't drop everything to come with you? Not everyone has tethers holding them back." He let the comment about Jim’s bed slide. The last thing he wanted to dwell on was who his replacement would be. An oft-empty bed didn’t mean it was always such.

    "I have yet to meet a person who doesn't," Jim responded.  "Theoretically, you could argue that people could.  In novels and movies, they do all the time.  But the real life consequences are too immense.  Even you have school to worry about, nonetheless your family.”

    John scoffed. "My family's not nearly important to me as you seem to think." School mattered, of course. Jim was right about that. He wanted to _make_ something of himself and not end up trapped in the lower class forever. John didn’t want to be his father.

    "But your education is," Jim countered before taking a rather large gulp of wine.

    John sighed and emptied his glass once more. "There are other schools. Other universities."

    "Yet most would frown upon such a decision made with the wanton reason of ‘there are others.’  They would, of course, argue that there are others in regards to relationships as well," Jim noted, pouring John yet another drink.  Their salads finally arrived.

    John fell silent and began to eat. Of course, there was nothing more to their “relationship.” John was friendly and a decent lay, and that was it. If it wasn’t him that Jim picked, he would have picked one of the other guys in the line. It was stupid to think that, after _one_ bloody night, a rockstar would be enamoured of him. That was what a child would think, and John wasn’t a child. Not anymore.

    Jim could sense the uneasiness, and he knew he had said something wrong.  "I didn't mean to rebuke you," he murmured after finishing a bite of salad.  “But I meant merely that if it is so easy for you to speak of new schooling then it would be even easier to speak of new relationships."

    John shrugged and took another drink. He didn’t know how to put how utterly crushed he felt into words, so he decided not to bother. "Yeah. I suppose it would." Jim was right: if he found it so easy to cast aside his entire future for the barest hope of a relationship, how poorly would he treat the relationship itself?

    Jim fell silent now, not having anything else to say on the matter.  John’s own silence perturbed him a bit.  Finishing his salad quickly, he sat back and glanced out of the window.  They needed a new topic of conversation.  After all, John looked defeated - eyes cast down, shoulders slumped, and chews languid.  Jim had fucked up their whole evening, it seemed, and now it was time for him to repair it.

    "The beef wellington will be out shortly," the waiter stated before taking the plates.

    “Thank you,” Jim murmured before looking back at John and chewing on his bottom lip.  “Th-the salad was good, yeah?”  It was a weak attempt, but at least it was _something_.

    John nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah. Delicious.” Not really feeling up to conversation, he turned to stare out the window and watched the traffic roll by. Tomorrow, he'd go home and push Jim out of his head. He could call up Sarah and see if she wanted to grab dinner or a movie. Normal things for a normal boy to do. John had tried so hard to be realistic about their two-night stand by telling himself it happened in every city all over the world. He'd told himself repeatedly that he was no one - he'd been plucked out of the crowd at random - but somehow the hope of something more had stayed. It was woven into him, burning away within his heart despite the sting of Jim's words. John knew he'd need to learn to ignore the whole damn thing.

    "John?"  Jim called out.  He hadn’t even reacted when the waiter had set down his beef wellington.  "John, the beef wellington's here."

    It was difficult to pull himself out of his own head, but John somehow managed. He blinked and looked back at the table, a slight frown twisting his lips. "Oh. Thank you." John set his glass down and began to eat. Dinner was certainly delicious, but the usual enthusiastic sounds he made while eating were absent.

    Jim deflated slightly when John’s mood remained heavy.  Swallowing hard, he decided to do something he rarely ever did.  "I seem to have upset you, and I apologize.  This dinner was supposed to be romantic and fun, not solemn and depressing."

    John smirked bitterly and looked up at him. "Whoops. Looks like we both blew it." In reality, he knew the blame lay with him. _Couldn’t keep your damned mouth shut,_ he scolded himself. _Couldn’t just let it go._

    Jim half-heartedly smiled back at him.  "It appears that way indeed," he murmured.  Due to John’s mood, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to take a bite.  Carefully, he stabbed a piece and brought it to his mouth.  "Oh, God, that _is_ good."

    "Yes, it is," John replied. He ate the meal in silence, still suffering from the bleak mood that had descended. He wasn’t a very good date, and acknowledging it only made him feel worse. Jim had gone out of his way to arrange the evening, and John was just ruining it.

    Jim shifted uncomfortably as he also ate in silence.  Never before had he experienced such an awkward date, and he wasn’t sure how to fix it.  After all, he was used to just pulling out money and throwing it at the problem.  Suddenly, the waiter appeared with a dessert menu, and Jim eagerly took it.  "Do you want to get one takeaway?" he inquired to John before passing him the menu.

    John cleaned his plate and browsed the offered list. His usually active sweet tooth wasn’t quite feeling up to it, but it couldn’t hurt. "A slice of banoffee pie would be perfect, actually." He passed the menu back to Jim and polished off the last of his wine.

    “Alright, one banoffee pie and a slice of your chocolate cake,” Jim ordered.  He hated this atmosphere that hovered over them, and he hoped that the dessert would break it later on.  After all, it was hard to be upset when eating something sweet and delicious.  He waited in silence as their desserts and the check was brought over.  "Ready to go?"

    John rose and pushed his chair back against the table. _As ready as I can be_ , he thought, which wasn’t very ready at all. With the way their moods had swung, the night could only get worse, and he was _not_ looking forward to it. "Yes, I am," he answered, giving the jumper Jim had loaned him a small tug to straighten it.

    Jim offered an arm.  He wasn't sure how John reacted to alcohol, but - given how much he drank in such little time - he assumed he would have a bit of a job walking.

    The gesture took him slightly by surprise. John linked his own arm with Jim's and held onto his wrist for support. He was a little unsteady on his feet as they carried the dessert to Jim's waiting car, but that seemed to be the only effect of the wine. "Thank you.”

    "You're welcome,” Jim murmured.  He glanced over at John before nervously adding, “I hope dinner was to your satisfaction." By now, he was hoping beyond hope to see John perk up once more.  It was unnerving to see John, usually bouncing and energetic, so down in the dumps.

    "It was delicious. Probably - no, _definitely_ the best meal I've ever eaten." John turned his head, looking out the window once more. Somehow, it was easier than looking at Jim. "What happened?" he asked. His words were barely audible over the sound of traffic. "This was supposed to be a good night. It's our last night, and we're acting like we're on our way to a bloody funeral. It _feels_ like we’re on our way to a bloody funeral.”

    Jim wanted to remark that it was because they honestly were.  The funeral of their contact, it seemed, was looming.  However, he would never dare to let such words slip through his lips.  "We're just having an off night.  Everyone has them," Jim replied.  Hesitantly, he tugged John closer to him.  "But we have desserts in the bag, and a whole lot of crap telly waiting for us once we get back hom- I mean, to the hotel."

    Despite the doubt still clinging to him, John wrapped an arm around Jim’s waist. "Is that what you've been so deviously planning since you moved me back to the end of the autograph line? Pie and crap telly while I lay around in your pants?" He offered Jim a small, forced smile. "Awfully domestic. I like it." Feigning happiness was something John had perfected.  He’d had to, lest others ask questions when he appeared with a black eye or a split lip. Doing it around Jim felt wrong on a fundamental level, but he _had_ to act like everything was fine.

    "Isn't it, though?" Jim inquired, relaxing slightly as he heard the tonal change in John’s voice.  He knew they weren’t quite there yet, but he hoped they were getting somewhere.  "I am just full of surprises, I know.  I'm sure you were expecting a rock god such as myself to offer you all sorts of illicit drugs, have two thousand sex toys, and at least a hundred kinks.  Don't let anyone else know how domesticated I am."

    John snorted. "You don't? That's a shame. I was half-hoping you'd handcuff me to the headboard when we got back." He closed his eyes and leaned against Jim. The sigh that slipped from his lips was the product of keeping up the act. It was almost exhausting to police the pitch of his voice and the expression on his face. "Won't be too forgettable, will it? A quiet night in?" The mask slipped slightly when he asked.

    Suddenly, Jim felt everything click together.  How could he have been so stupid?  The sudden silence, the morose atmosphere, the lack of laughter, the frowns, the blank stares all pointed to the same thing.  "Oh, Johnny," he whispered before tilting John's head up and kissing him.  "Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, do not for one second think that you are forgettable.  Don’t ever convince yourself that I will leave here, and you will fade from my mind.  Don’t lie and believe that you're no one in particular.  Johnny, I _chose_ you for an inexplicable reason.  I wanted you from the moment I saw you.  In a way, I was drawn to you, and that almost never happens."

    Jim’s gentle kiss caught him off guard. John hadn't realized the implications of his words. But, with the press of Jim’s lips, he realized he'd given himself away. His free hand reached up to cup Jim's jaw, and John kissed him back, sliding his thumb over the sparse hair of Jim's stubble. "Do you promise?" he breathed. "That you won't forget? Even if we never see each other again? I know I'm being stupid. You barely know me, and all I know about you can be boiled down to what I've learned in the past twenty-four hours, but this is the best thing to ever-" _To ever happen to me,_ John wanted to finish, but his throat tightened and choked off the words. He blinked and cleared his throat, trying to get a hold on his speech and emotions. The alcohol mixed with the sorrow was making it difficult for him to think. "I don't expect anything. I know that just these few nights could ruin you. And I know how worried you are about your career and your future. But this? I will never forget this. Even if I live to be two hundred, I'll never forget you or what you've done for me. I won't forget how important you make me feel, or the way you laugh, or how your hair looks first thing in the morning."

    Jim was taken aback by John's little speech.  He hadn't realized just how burdensome it could be for someone to merely be with him for just a night.  No wonder why no one ever wanted to stay for a second.  But John had - despite his fears and concerns - because Jim asked him to.  Honestly, Jim knew he would never meet someone who blew him away like John Watson could.  Never before had anyone ever expressed these concerns to Jim, and he wasn't sure if it was because they didn't think they could or he would care.  But John’s honesty made Jim so happy.  He felt like he had finally found someone who felt comfortable enough to speak their mind around him.

    "John Watson," Jim called out, "I consider it an honour to be cherished by you.  To have someone want to remember even the slightest detail about me is something that - I must admit - I have never experienced before.  That being said, I think it should come to no surprise that I wholeheartedly promise that I will not forget you.  Even if we never see each other again."  With that, he pressed their foreheads together.  "I promise, John Watson, that your name will never fade from my mind.  I will always recall the sky blue of your eyes and the golden sunshine of your hair.  I will remember the way your eyes sparkled when I sang ‘Flesh and Bones’ for you.  I’ll remember how tightly you curled up around me, as if I was a lifeline.  I won’t forget how special you made me feel.  Therefore, I can guarantee that you won't become a faceless number.  You won't become ‘that one kid from London.’  You will forever remain John Watson, the lad who surprised me again and again with his consideration, energy, and joy."

    John knew Jim had a silver tongue and a gift for imagery, but he didn't expect it to leave him so thoroughly breathless. He repeated Jim’s words in his mind until he could recite them from memory. He needed to remember verbatim exactly what Jim had said. John knew that he'd return to the suburb, to his abusive father and his weak, simpering mother tomorrow. It would crush him. His house was constricting, squeezing more life from him day after day, and this was the first time John had ever felt _free_ of it. Free to speak up, free to hold his head high, and free to be himself. He let out a soft chuckle. "And I promise, Jim Moriarty, that there will never be a day where I don't dream of your bourbon-coloured eyes or the honey of your lips. You will always be my first - Hell, you might be my only - and I will never speak of you without the purest reverence. You are so beautiful and so brilliant, and even if the tides of fame turn against you, I never will. Not for anything in the world."

    Jim kissed John deeply, allowing his lips to seal their promises.  Slipping his tongue inside, he explored John's mouth to his content, wanting to remember it as best he could.  "You should become a vow writer," he whispered against his lips before smiling.  "I would definitely say 'I do!' to a man who gives me a promise like that."  With that, he beamed at John.  "You've seemed to have outshone me again."

    John slipped into Jim's lap properly. He straddled his hips and threaded one hand through his coal black hair, giving a gentle tug. "Mmn, no one can outshine you," John breathed out before quickly capturing Jim's mouth again. He let Jim explore, cooing and running his tongue over Jim's lips. "I learned from the best. Wouldn't write the vows for your wedding, though. I'd be too jealous." John had stolen a moment to speak, grinning down at Jim.

    Jim chuckled before catching John's lips again and tugging him in closer.  "Well, right now, I don't have a chance of marrying any time soon, so it seems we're both safe."  With that, he reached down and kneaded John's arse, remembering how much he liked that before.

    At his touch, John whimpered and shifted his hips against Jim’s lap. "Oh, God, do that again." Something about the simple tease sent fire curling down his spine, and God, he loved it.

    With that, Jim slipped his hands inside John's trousers before giving his arse a squeeze.  "That?" he inquired teasingly before kissing up John's neck.

    "Fuck, yes, that," John moaned. He leaned his head to the side, baring more skin for Jim to reach. Soft sighs of pleasure slipped from his lips with every kiss.

    Jim continued kneading John's arse, loving the sounds he made as he did so.  He then gently kissed all of the love bites that already littered John's neck.  In a way, it helped him feel like John was genuinely _his_.  "At this rate, I'm going to eat my dessert off your stomach."

    "You'd fucking better," John growled, rocking into his hands. "God, I-I just can't seem to get enough of you." He licked his lips and loosed a desperate whine. "How long until we're home?" John, unlike Jim, didn't catch his mistake. He was just buzzed enough to not police himself and far too lost in Jim's touch to care.

    "Soon," Jim crooned before looking out of the window.  He hadn't even noticed the slip-up, too caught up in the heat of the moment to analyze the words spilling from John’s mouth.  "We're about two blocks away now."

    "A lot can happen in two blocks." John grinned and bent over, biting at the curve of Jim’s jaw.

    "Not enough will happen in two blocks," Jim informed him.

    John chuckled. "Fair enough. I can wait."

    Upon hearing that, Jim hummed happily.  He continued snogging John until the car came to a stop.  Groaning, he looked out of the window.  "We're here, which means you have to get off me."

    He couldn't help but feel a little mischievous. So although John complied, he did so slowly. He made sure to dip his hips down, grinding against Jim's obvious erection as he climbed off his lap. "Alright, Daddy," he whispered. "Let's head up."

    "You're going to fucking pay for that, you little brat!" Jim swore with a grin before grabbing the desserts and following John - albeit awkwardly - inside.  Once they were in the lift and the doors were closed, Jim pinned John in a corner and kissed him deeply.  He wanted to leave John just as tormented as he was.

    John kissed him back, rolling his hips against Jim's. With his previous mood gone, he felt almost hyper-susceptible to Jim’s sensual teasing. "Mmn, don't squish the sweets," he whispered with a giggle. "We need them intact so I can lick them off you."

    "Only after I tie you down and eat mine off your stomach," Jim threatened before hearing the lift doors open again.  "C'mon," he growled, tugging John's hand, turning on his heels, and practically dragging him down the hall to their room.

    Stumbling a little, John followed after him. Between the fire in his blood, the alcohol in his system, and the rush of knowing what was waiting when they got back to the room, he was absolutely giddy with excitement. "I'd like to see you try," John challenged.

    "Oh, really now?" Jim inquired.  Without warning, he lifted John up by his waist and tossed him over his shoulder.

    "Oh!" John gasped and giggled. He brought his fists down on Jim's back, pummeling him gently as he feigned outrage. “Put me down!”

    Laughing, Jim gave John a teasing swat on the butt.  “Never!”  He carried him into their room before getting him over to the bed and tossing him down onto it.  "Hello, sexy," he growled.

    As he bounced on the mattress, John licked his lips and smiled up at Jim. "Well, hi there," he said sweetly, linking his arms behind Jim's neck. "Can I help you with something?”

    "Yes, you can.  By undressing.  Immediately," Jim answered.

    He was more than happy to comply. John started with his trousers, deftly opening the clasp and tugging them down his hips. "All of it?" he asked. Steady hands lifted the hem of the loose jumper, flashing Jim a bit of his stomach.

    Jim hummed in appreciation.  "No, keep that on.  And your pants.  I like your pants," he answered before kissing down his neck and tugging off John's shoes and socks.  "You're so fucking sexy."

    John spread his legs and fisted his hand in the back of Jim's shirt. "God, thank you, Daddy," he whined. "You are, too. No one compares. No one could ever h-hope to..." The words trailed off into pleased groans as Jim’s lips caressed his skin.

    With that, Jim gently brought John's hands up before securing them to the headboard with one of his silk ties reserved for public events.  He didn’t press for John to finish that statement.  After all, he already knew how it ended.

    The feel of the silk against his skin sent a shiver down John's spine. He tugged gently, letting the tie rub against his skin. “Oh, I like this…”

    Lifting the jumper up far enough to reveal John’s nipples, Jim pulled out his slice of chocolate cake.  "Do you think you can stay still for me, baby?"

    "My stomach's not that ticklish, so I should be able to handle it."

    Jim slipped his piece of cake from the box onto John's exposed stomach.  Settling between John's legs, Jim kneaded his own cock through his trousers before leaning up and ever so gently taking out a bite from the top corner.  "Oh, that's even more fantastic than I remember," he moaned out with a mischievous smirk.

    John groaned at the sight of Jim perched between his thighs. "I could stand to see more of that," he whispered, eyes wide as he watched Jim touch himself. It was an honour to know he was at least sexy enough that Jim couldn’t wait for relief. As he pulled back from the cake, licking the chocolate from his lips, John let out a whine. "Is it really that good?”

    "Yes," Jim breathed out before licking a stripe up John's stomach and taking another bite.  He groaned and bucked into his hand, unable to help himself.  John looked gorgeous like this, after all.  Humming, he nibbled a bit more before trailing down and mouthing at John's erection through his pants.

    It was absolutely sinful. Jim's mouth was hot against his skin, a contrast to the lightly-chilled treat resting on his stomach. After every bite, Jim chased the crumbs with his tongue, licking John’s skin clean. "Oh, my God," John moaned, shifting carefully against the mattress. "What a tease!"

    "You're loving every second of it," Jim retorted with a grin before gingerly picking up the last bit of cake between his teeth.  With that, he slid up and pressed the last piece to John’s lips, offering it to him.

   “For me?” John whispered, cocking his head to the side. He moaned and leaned forward to take the offered treat from Jim’s mouth. He licked the cake from between his teeth, shuddering with lust and primal need. It was more intoxicating than the wine, he thought, and sweeter than any treat he’d ever tasted. "You are amazing," he cooed. “You’re going to spoil me rotten.”

    Jim chuckled before reaching down and tugging John's pants down.  As soon as it sprang into view, he started stroking John's erection.  "Only the best for you, Johnny-boy," he whispered before smirking up at him.  John had no idea just how pampered he could be if he were Jim’s.  If only, if only...

    John leaned his head back and parted his lips in a pleasured sigh. Even after so short a time, Jim knew exactly how to touch him. He was learning the nuances of John’s body so quickly. "Fuck," John cursed, lifting his hips to thrust into Jim’s palm. "My God, your _hands_ … so fucking good!" A shiver worked its way down his spine as his eyes met Jim’s.

    "Plenty of practice," Jim informed him before thumbing over the head of his cock.  John looked more gorgeous now than he had before.

    "More, please!" John gasped.

    "Greedy," Jim chided with a smile before sinking down and licking a long stripe up the base of his cock.  "But you were polite about it, so..."  With that, Jim drew in the head of John's cock and suckled on it before slowly bobbing up and down, going further along the shaft with each bob.

    "Oh, my God," John whimpered. He'd never be over the sight of Jim's cheeks hollowed around him, nor of the way his lush lips slid along his skin. "Yes. _Yes_ , Jim." His lashes fluttered as he forced himself to watch Jim swallow his cock.

    Jim hummed before letting John's cock nudge the back of his throat.  His mouth tried to swallow around it, but it proved far too large.  Even so, he knew that he was doing more than enough for John.  The way that John stared at him was absolutely addicting.  Honestly, Jim felt like he was being revered as a god even though it was John's body he was worshipping.  He started to suck long and hard in response to the cry of his name.

    The wet noises Jim made were absolutely obscene. They burrowed deep in John's mind, ensuring he'd never forget them. Not that he would - not a single moment of this would fade from his memory. He wouldn't let it. "Jim," he moaned. "Jim, Jim, Jim!" His name became a mantra, dripping from John's lips in a steady stream. He mixed in praises and curses, trembling in his restraints as he fought to stay focused.

    Jim slowly pulled off with a pop and lapped at the tip before giving John the most smoldering stare he could manage - not that it was hard, given how aroused he was.  "John," he called out before kissing up the shaft.  He had a feeling he knew how to get John to orgasm.  "John, will you please come for me?  Please, John, I so desperately want to see you come."

    Sweat rolled down John's brow as he held Jim’s intense gaze. "Y-yes," he panted. "God, yes, Jim, I will. I'll come for you. I'll do anything for you, just please-"

    With that, Jim began to frantically suck him again, this time his eyes never leaving John's face.

    Jim's rich brown eyes burned as he fucked John with the tight heat of his mouth once more. "A-ah! Fuck, _Jim_!" It didn't take long for John's body to tense and his toes to curl as he spilled down Jim's throat with a ragged cry of his name.

    Jim swallowed every drop given to him before licking John's softening cock clean.  John had looked just as spectacular as he had the first time they were together.  This time, though, it was a bit different.  It seemed that John was more desperate to keep Jim in his sights.  Even now, they couldn't get away from what would come tomorrow.

    "What a good boy," he purred before sliding up and kissing John affectionately.  "That was beautiful."

    John kissed him back, hard and desperate. As their tongues mingled, John could taste the lingering flavours of the chocolate as well as his own release. "Mmn, you are wicked," he whispered, smiling up at Jim. "Going to untie me, or would you like me trussed up for other activities?"  Despite the end of their time drawing nearer with each passing moment, John was determined to make the most of their last night together. The most, in his opinion, consisted of moaning and sweating themselves into exhaustion and curling up in each others arms until the dawning day pulled them apart once more.

    "Actually, are you ready for the rest of your dessert?" Jim inquired.

    John quirked a brow. "I am _always_ ready for dessert."

    Jim chuckled before getting up and retrieving it.  Instead of releasing John, though, he carefully broke off a piece with his fingers and pressed it to John's beautifully full lips.

    John kept his eyes locked on Jim's as he leaned forward to wrap his lips around Jim's fingers. With a low groan, he carefully sucked the bit of pastry from between them.

    Jim let out a shuddering breath as he felt John's warm, wet mouth enclose his fingers.  It didn't help that John was staring right at him.  Honestly, this had to be one of the most erotic, nonsexual things Jim had ever experienced.  And, what’s more, he doubted it would have been with any other person.  Breaking off another piece, he carefully fed it to him.

    A soft, sweet moan rose in John’s throat as he allowed his tongue to brush against Jim’s fingertips. He knew Jim had to be aching and desperate for his own release, but he couldn't help himself. After he swallowed his next bite, John sucked playfully at Jim's fingers, dropping a coy wink in his direction.

    Jim couldn't stop himself after such a display.  His free hand swiftly fished out his cock, and he gave himself a long stroke.  Moaning, he brought his other hand up to John's lips again to give him another bite.  "John," he groaned out.

    John let his teeth scrape against the soft pads of Jim's fingers, letting out another needy moan of his own. "Can I taste _you_ , Daddy?" His lips ghosted against Jim's hand as he whispered his words. "Please?"

    "F-fuck, Johnny," Jim groaned out before nodding.  How could he refuse after _that_ anyway?  He set the dessert aside and straddled John's upper torso before pressing the tip of his cock to John's lips.  "Open wide."

    Like a good boy, John parted his lips and looked up at Jim through his golden lashes. His tongue slid over the head of Jim’s cock. With a pleased coo, he lapped up the moisture beading at his slit.

    "O-oh, fuck, John," Jim moaned out before slowly pressing forward.  He wanted to ensure that John wouldn't gag, as he still was unfamiliar with how much John could handle.  "Johnny, your fucking mouth!  O-oh, fucking Hell!"

    This was something John knew he could do. Despite his lack of experience with men, he had already been with plenty of women. He could kiss, sure, and he could fuck well enough. His mouth, though, was an entirely different story. John Watson was most confident when he could use his tongue. He licked along John's shaft and sucked gently, letting his tongue trace patterns against the sensitive skin.

    Jim moaned, not having expected that.  It seemed that John had more practice than he originally let on.  He continued to slowly thrust in and out of John's mouth, controlling himself as best he could.  After all, he was still testing the waters and understanding John’s full range of abilities.  And, God, was that a fun thing to test for.  As time passed, though, his self-discipline became harder to manage.  Before long, he was fucking John's mouth and moaning uncontrollably as every moment brought him closer to the edge.

    John was more than happy to lay back and let Jim thrust into his throat. He swallowed as much of his length as he could, gagging occasionally when Jim pressed too deep. He loved it, though, and he kept their gazes locked as Jim growled and rocked above him. Nothing quite compared to way he felt, being filled so intimately. Even when he couldn’t breathe, John couldn’t get enough of Jim’s cock.

    Jim could feel his orgasm coming on.  Although the build had been slow, the final moment hit him without warning.  In a frenzy, he accidentally pulled out too far.  It was at that moment that he came, spraying John's face with his cum.  "John!" he groaned out, his eyes fluttering shut.

    There was hardly time to close his eyes before Jim pulsed across his face. John stifled his giggles, choosing instead to lick the cum from his lips and flash a small smirk at Jim. "Fuck," he whispered, turning red as the mess dripped down his chin. It was positively shameful, laying bound and covered in semen, but he had never felt better. “That… _That_ was more like what I was expecting,” John whispered as he blinked up at Jim.

    Slightly embarrassed, Jim looked down.  He unexpectedly moaned upon seeing John’s face splattered, and he couldn’t help but sink down and kiss John deeply.  "I'm sorry, baby.  I didn't mean to do that," he murmured before running his fingers through John's hair.  "But God strike me down if you don't look even better covered in my cum."

    John chased his lips with a pleased little chuckle. So Jim _liked_ him messy? _Good. That makes two of us._ "Oh, don't apologize. That was... hot. So fucking hot. I doubt there are enough words in my vocabulary for me to explain how much I loved that."

    Jim hummed happily when he heard that.  Carefully, he released John from his restraints.  "I'm glad to hear you liked it."  God knew that he had been with more than one partner who hated it.  If he ever did something to displease John so greatly, he doubted he would be able to forgive himself.  Not that John ever needed to know that.

    Once his wrists were free, John wrapped his arms around Jim and pulled him close. "Could use a rag, though? I can't stay like this all night." His face was already drying, leaving a rather uncomfortable film on his skin. John felt that it was worth it, though, to have experienced what they had.

    "Well, then, you shouldn't have held onto me," Jim replied before settling in close.

    John giggled. "Alright, alright. But when I go shower, you're coming with me." He ignored the deeper meaning of Jim's comment. It was clearly meant in a literal sense. After all, John had grabbed him the moment he could move. But there was truth to its end. It wasn’t as if John could stay with him. Jim wouldn’t allow it, and he had his education to consider. Clinging to Jim and the last few days they’d shared would only bring him pain when they’d parted.

    Jim groaned.  "I don't want to shower," he complained before burying his face into John's neck.  "I'm quite happy right here, you know.  I'll fetch you a rag if that's what it comes down to, but I'm not moving unless I simply must.  And neither are you."

    John ran his fingers through Jim’s hair and let out a quiet laugh. "Alright, alright, toss me something to wipe my face, and I promise we won't leave this bed."

    Jim flipped over and found the cleaning wipes Magnussen gave him because he too often passed out with stage makeup still on.  "Here you go," he responded before handing the pouch to John.

    With a bit of effort, John tugged one out of the package and nudged Jim's ribs. "Rather telling," he teased as he cleaned himself off. “Damp wipes just under the bed.” It was easy to see they were for makeup, but Jim had expressed pleasure when John teased.

    Jim chuckled before pulling John back into him and spooning him from behind.  "I'm a man of many hidden treasures," he jested.

    John pressed his hips back against Jim’s and closed his eyes. "And many talents."

    "You flatter me," he murmured before kissing the back of John's head.  "Because I know for a fact that you are as well."

    A small smile touched John’s lips. "Mmn, you don't know that. For example, I'm decent in bed, but I can't play an instrument."

    "Neither can I," Jim countered before tightening his hold around John.

    "Oh, but you sing. Like an angel, in fact."

    "You're biased," Jim teased before tucking John's head underneath his chin.  "Not that I'm complaining."

    Laying with Jim was comforting in a way John had never experienced before. He could feel his heart beating steadily against his back. Every breath Jim took stirred the hair at the very crown of his head. Jim radiated warmth, and John had never felt safer. Tomorrow, it would be gone. He'd be back to holding his tongue and scurrying in the shadows at home. _Not now, not now, focus..._

    "I'm not biased. Just because you were the first man I'd ever been with, or you're a personal hero of mine, or I listen to your music when nothing else will help me sleep..." John smiled a little more surely as he thought of all the nights he spent in bed with Jim’s albums on repeat to drown out the screaming. "Nope. Totally fair."

    Jim hummed before shifting his head.  Softly, he began to sing into John's ear.  Not anything that he had on an album.  No, he began to sing an old Irish Gaelic lullaby that his mother always sang to him when he couldn't sleep.  “Éiníní, éiníní, codalaígí, codalaígí.  Éiníní, éiníní, codalaígí, codalaígí,” he sang softly, singing it slowly in hopes of recalling the whole song lullaby.  “Codalaígí, codalaígí, cois an chlaí amuigh, cois an chlaí amuigh.”  As he sang, he soothingly rubbed John's wrist with his thumb.

    John was afraid to breathe, lest the sound drown out Jim's quiet, lilting voice. With each hushed syllable, John slowly relaxed in his arms. It was sweet. It was haunting. Tears slipped down John's cheeks as his breathing slowed further. He wanted to bottle that moment, naked and curled with Jim behind him, and carry it with him for the rest of his life. Everything was absolutely perfect as Jim sang his lullaby and eased John to sleep.

    “An londubh is an fiach dubh, téigí a chodladh, téigí a chodladh, an chéirseach is an préachán, téigí a chodladh, téigí a chodladh,” Jim continued to sing as he felt John relax against him.  Unable to see or feel the tears running down John's cheeks, he merely kept John close to him.  “Codalaígí, codalaígí, cois an chlaí amuigh, cois an chlaí amuigh.”  Upon finishing that chorus, he could feel John’s breathing deepen and slow.  He was asleep.

    Jim knew he should sleep.  He _needed_ sleep.  But with John in his arms, he couldn't bring himself to drift off.  If he fell asleep, morning would be around before he knew it.  Time will run out.  Even if it was just a few hours, Jim wanted to prolong daylight for as long as possible.  Sleep could happen on his bus ride later.  But right now?  Right now was far more important than sleep.  He carefully sat up before grabbing his notebook and a pen.  By the light of the moon, he began writing a new song, always making sure to stay pressed up to John.  Slowly, the hours ticked by as John slept, and the sun began to creep up on him.

    As John slumbered, his dreams were full of Jim Moriarty. First, he was snoring on a sofa while John sat on the floor, smiling up at him. Next, he was in the kitchen, cooking dinner and burning the pasta. The scene shifted again, and he was bending John over in the park, giggling and shushing him as their bodies rocked together. Soon, Jim kissing his neck as a gaggle of teenagers fawned over him in the shoppes. Each scene was simple, sweet, and domestic. There were no nightmares, there was no pain, just bliss.

    A bliss he knew he would never have.

    He stirred with the sun, humming and stretching beneath the sheet as he rose to consciousness.

    Jim felt John stir next to him, and he carefully stroked his hair.  "You don't have to get up yet," he murmured.

    "MmnIdon't?" John mumbled, leaning toward Jim’s touch. His voice was thick with sleep, and his words slurred together as he tried to speak.

    "No," Jim murmured.  After a moment’s hesitation, he lied, "We still have all the time in the world, John.  Sleep a bit longer."

    John smiled up at him. "Can I have a kiss?"

    Jim leaned down and gave John a soft peck.  "Always," he whispered.

    "Thank you," John cooed. He nuzzled into the pillow and let himself sink back into the warmth of sleep.

    "Any time, Johnny," Jim whispered, knowing John couldn't hear him anymore.  He returned to his song and ran his fingers through John's hair more often.  Time was beginning to tick loudly in his ears, and he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it.  Even so, he desperately wanted John to stay.  Just one more day, one more hour, or just one more minute.  Jim would take any of it as long as it kept John curled up next to him.

    John managed another half hour of sleep before his mobile began to ring. The tone was, of course, one of Jim's songs.  For a moment, it brought a smile to his lips - until he realized what it meant. He sat up with a groan and grabbed it off the nightstand. "Mmn, what? ... Of course I do, I was sleeping. What do you want? ... Later, alright? Doesn't really matter, does it? It's Sunday. ... No, God, why would I- Fine. _Fine!_ Just give me a few hours." A scowl crossed his features as he ended the call, and John tossed the phone across the room, letting it bounce on the carpet. "For fuck’s sake… O-oh, um. Good morning, Jim." Heat rose to his cheeks, and he looked away.

    Jim was entirely startled by the sudden display of frustration and violence.  Honestly, he thought John incapable of it.  But he supposed that he didn’t actually know John.  Everything he knew, from his sense of humour to temper, had been discovered in the last 48 hours.  He didn’t really know John at all, did he?  "Good morning to you, too.  What's wrong?" Jim inquired.

    With a dismissive wave of his hand, John replied, "My dad, just shouting my ear off. It's nothing." He’d never admit it, but he was slightly embarrassed by his outburst. It was just so _frustrating,_ having to deal with threats on the last day he got to spend in Jim’s company.

    Jim frowned when he heard that.  "Do you need me to drop you off at home?  Maybe show my face?"  It was only after he spoke the last word that he remembered that John had lied about his location.

    John laughed hard enough to turn his face red. "My God," he choked, "he'd skin you alive! And me along with you! No, no. As much as I’d love to bring you home, it’d be a terrible idea."

    "Wh-what?" Jim inquired, shocked by the outburst.

    "He hates you, Jim! Thought your music was too dark at first, and then I started plastering your posters on every inch of my room. Well, he thinks you’re enabling my ‘preferences.’ I-if he... Hang on. I've got this." John took a breath and held it in. His chest still tightened with giggles, but by the time he let out the air, he was able to speak more clearly. "If he finds out I've been with you, in your hotel room... Well, one, he'll know _exactly_ what we were doing, and two, he'd tear you apart. He's... um - he has a temper. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Or me, for that matter. It’s not personal, I swear. I’m not ashamed of you either! It’s just safer if you don’t."

    Jim knew that he should be used to this concept.  After all, his music wasn't for everyone.  And it was even less so for the previous generations.  Even so, it disheartened him greatly to hear that he would have had no chance with John's family.  They would never have liked him, especially as John’s boyfriend.  Any fantasy about being with John would always be marred by the fact that his father would try to assault him should he ever turn up at John’s house.  Refusing to make eye contact, he muttered, "I would be willing to be torn apart if it meant you were alright."

    It wasn’t difficult for John to see he’d said something to upset Jim. He sat up properly and turned to face Jim. He wanted to fix this, whatever it was. "I... Jim, he..." That was a can of worms John wasn't sure he wanted to open. Mike Stamford and the cellar. Did he really want their parting day to be marred by his sob story? Instead, John cleared his throat and closed his eyes. "That might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me," he said, swallowing down any need he felt to tell Jim just why his father hated his music and him. Maybe if he came back to record, John would fill him in on the shit his father pulled, but not today.

    Not willing to let today be ruined as last night almost was, Jim laid down and pulled John on top of him.  "I started writing a new song," he murmured.  "I think I’m going to call it 'Stars.'  Everyone will probably hate it because it's like nothing I've ever written before.”  With that, he paused and thought about how on Earth he was going to get it released.  “Honestly, it’ll probably have to be an extra on my next album just to get it out there."

    Grateful for the distraction, John wrapped his arms around Jim and pressed a gentle kiss to his throat. "Like a bonus track on a special release or a hidden song at the end of a record?" Either way, he knew he’d love it. It wasn’t hard to please him, where Jim was concerned.

    "Either or.  Don't know yet.  It's really rough, but do you want to hear what I've got?"

    "I would be honoured."

    Jim pulled up the notebook and cleared his throat.  Honestly, he hated singing songs for the first time to people because he was always _terrified_ it was going to be rubbish.  Magnussen and he had worked out a system where Jim would send his lyrics over, and Magnussen would read and send them back with comments and marks.  Thus, John was experiencing something exceedingly rare.  Not that Jim would ever admit to it, though. 

    “You came into my life,  
    Like a brilliant comet in the nighttime sky,  
    Although I could see you,  
    You were too far away for me to reach.  
    Now, I’m tongue-tied,  
    Standing in the dark,  
    Wondering if I’ll ever see you again. 

    Because if we are all made of stardust,  
    You shined the brightest.  
    But I never had a chance - not in the slightest.  
    Because someone like me could never hope to catch your attention.  
    I'm sorry for my misapprehension.  
    The fault is in our stars.  
    We the star-crossed lovers.” 

    Jim flushed.  "I-it's still really rough, but… y-yeah."

    John peered up at Jim as he sang. When he finished, silence hung between them as John absorbed the lyrics. After a few moments, he sniffled and buried his face in Jim's chest. "It's perfect," he breathed. "Absolutely perfect. I love it.” The song left an ache in his heart and drew attention to the end of their time together.

    "No, it's utter rubbish," Jim replied before kissing the top of John's head.  "But maybe it'll become perfect someday."

    "Well, I'm not hard to please. It's sappy and bittersweet, and it... it fits. Us. This." John closed his eyes against the tears that distorted his vision.

    Jim let out a long breath, not having realized that he was holding it.  Perhaps, he had a chance.  If nothing else, he had to at least try.  "It doesn't have to."

    John raised his head to look at him. "What do you mean, it doesn’t have to?" he asked.

    "You're so frightened of being forgotten and never seeing me again.  But has it never occurred to you to just _ask_ for insurance of some sort?"

    "I-" Honestly, it hadn't, not since what he’d said in the restaurant. "Well, you said you might record your next album here. And, yeah, I thought I could ask if we could - um - see each other when you came back, but then when we talked at dinner... I thought you might not want that, so I just let it go.”

    "When we talked at dinner?  You mean that horrifically solemn dinner, during which we both became unresponsive?  Oh, yes, you should _definitely_ depend on that when making decisions about my personality."

    John sighed. He wasn’t looking for an argument. "Alright, fine. Jim Moriarty, when you come back to London - _if_ you come back to London - may I see you again?"

    "I don’t know about that," Jim half-jested, knowing that his schedule would be a mess.  "But if you give me your mobile, I'll give you my number."

    John’s heart sank at Jim’s negative response. “O-oh. Right, sure. Your number…” He climbed over Jim and retrieved his phone from where it had landed on the carpet. "Alright, here it is." He handed it over and sat down on the edge of the bed.

    Jim programmed in his name, number, and birthday before ensuring that he had a special ringtone and text tone.  "You use this anytime, day or night.  Alright?"

    Despite the pain in his chest, John nodded and took his mobile back. "I will. I promise, I will." There was doubt, though, tinting his words. With his hopes for the recording dashed, he wasn’t sure contacting Jim in the future would be such a good idea.

    "John, I-" Jim began to say before stopping himself.  He knew better than to make promises right now.  After all, they would sound silly and desperate at best.  At worst, they would sound entirely far-fetched.  Thus, he refrained from promising to not sleep with anyone else for the rest of the tour and didn’t press for them to actually try to make something out of this.  Because, in the end, he had to leave John, and it wouldn't be fair to keep him hanging on like that.  Not when he could move on and find someone who would be better for him.  “I want to thank you for your company and kindness this weekend.  You alone made London worth the trip.”

    That was it then. Jim was leaving. John thumbed over the cover of his mobile and wondered how long it would be before Jim stopped answering his calls. A change came over John as he sat on the rumpled sheets. He squared his shoulders, straightened his spine, lifted his chin, and cracked his neck. His walls were coming back up, plain as day. John was shielding himself. "Right. Yeah, of course. You're welcome, Jim. Glad I could help.”

    Jim was startled by the sudden change.  It was like he was watching a soldier prepare himself for battle.  Blinking a few times, he swallowed hard, wondering what exactly required for John to have such a reaction.  A suspicion tugged at the back of his mind, but he disregarded it immediately.  If John had wanted him to know something, he would have said it.  "Please, let me pay for a cab to take you home," he offered, not knowing what else to do.  Quickly, he headed over to his wallet and began to thumb through the bills.  It felt like everything was starting to slip out of his fingers, and he couldn't save any of it.

    John shook his head at the offer. The last thing he wanted was to be even more indebted to Jim. "It's fine. I've got money. Thanks for the offer, though. Hope the rest of your tour goes well. Need these back?" He gestured to his clothes - Jim's jumper and pants - and raised a brow.

    "No," Jim insisted, pulling out a wad of cash and swiftly shoving it into one of John’s pockets.  "I’m not letting you go home on your own dime.  And keep them.  They look better on you anyway."

    For a moment, the resolve on John's face slipped. He looked weary and close to breaking down.“Don’t pay me,” he muttered, fishing the money out of his pocket. “I’m not a whore, and I don’t need the charity.” In his heart, he knew Jim was doing it to be kind. But now, standing in the bedroom in nothing but Jim’s boxers and jumper, unwashed and filthy from the night before, it was offensive. John’s dark blue eyes hardened, and the soldier was back. His hurt was pushed aside as quickly as it’d risen. He pulled on his trousers and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Goodbye, Jim."

    Jim felt his heart sink.  He had never intended to imply John was a whore of any kind, and he felt his face flush and eyes burn with humility.  How could he even begin to explain?  Especially when John looked at him with such a hard, cold gaze?  He would be blessed if John gave him the time of day now.  Swallowing hard, he forced himself to nod.  There was nothing he could do.  Everything was falling apart - slipping through his fingers - and he felt helpless, just standing there and watching on.  "Goodbye, John," he replied, frozen where he was.  As a last ditched attempt, he whispered, "Don't forget to text me."

    A small, pained smile tugged at the corners of John's lips. "Wouldn't dream of it," he replied, letting his tone hold some of the bitterness he felt. He hated that it would end with Jim standing still as the grave and John nursing the anger that coursed through him like poison. It wasn’t how he imagined their parting. No last kisses, no last minute offers. Just the clock chiming the proverbial midnight and an ache that ran bone-deep. He turned and left, forcing himself not to look back. This was his walk of shame, after all. He couldn't spoil it by breaking down and pleading with Jim to take him along. That wasn't how things like this were meant to happen. The groupie goes back to their normal life, and the rockstar moves on. Everyone knew that.

    As soon as the door shut, Jim heard the deafening silence.  Suddenly, the room felt empty.  The walls were a bit less vibrant, the bed not so soft, and the room itself was definitely darker.  A scream abruptly ripped through him, and he punched the armoire hard.  Gone.  Just like that, John Watson had walked out of his life.  Tears welled in his eyes, but he kept them from falling.  He knew that this was how it ended.  This was how it _always_ ended.  But never before had the parting been so painful.  Trembling, Jim felt his heart ache, the pain dwarfing the sting in his knuckles.  John wasn’t going to text him.  Not after offending him so greatly.  John’s glare had told Jim that he was probably never going to be viewed in the same way again.  What a way to lose status as an idol.  He had stripped John of all of his importance with that single move, and all because he didn’t want John to have to pay for his way back home.

    Worse than that, though, was that Jim had just let the best person he had ever met just walk out of his life.  He had insinuated wanting more, and he certainly toyed with the idea.  But in the end, he hadn’t had the gall to just go for it.  And why?  Because he knew he didn’t deserve someone like John Watson?  Someone so considerate, funny, and joyful wouldn’t want to be with a gloomy, temperamental rock star for more than just a few days.  Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and shook his head as the tears finally fell.  Gone, gone, gone...

    Down at the kerb, John hailed a cab and rattled off his address. He stared unblinking out the window, letting the city blur around him as the taxi carried him away from the hotel. The last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts during the drive. He didn’t want to think about what he was driving toward or what he was leaving behind. _Jim._ God, he was _furious_ about the money Jim had offered him, but even that didn’t make leaving any easier. Jim had been so important to him for so long, and being chosen Friday night was easily the best thing to ever happen to him. No matter how hard he tried to keep himself from getting attached, John had ended up hoping that he was somehow special. That, against all odds, he’d be worth keeping around. In the end, though, the reality of their relationship had slapped him in the face. He was just another notch on the bedpost - a distraction for the weekend. He wasn’t the first groupie to be sent home by a musician, and he knew he wouldn’t be the last. But it had been so easy to think that he was different and feel like he’d _mattered_ to Jim. At least, until he’d tried to pay him. His hands shook at the memory. John clenched his hands into fists, and his nails cut into his skin, leaving bloody crescents along his palm. Now, he was leaving Jim behind in favour of returning home. _Home._ That wasn’t where he was going. John was returning to his family, yes, but that sure as Hell wasn’t home.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John faces the consequences for staying out all weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This chapter contains **trigger warnings** for child abuse and violence, so please, read with caution! 
> 
> We'll try to have the next chapter up soon! Thank you for all the kudos, and all the reads, and every comment. It really means a lot to us, and it encourages us to keep going :)
> 
> Bonus points to anyone who knows what book Ashurha based the king's song off of!

    When John walked into the house, his parents were waiting. Harriet, of course, was nowhere to be seen. Knowing her, she was probably out with Clara. She was never there when the truly awful fights began, and John didn’t blame her. “Where’s Harriet?” he asked anyway, trying to stall the inevitable screaming match.

    “Didn’t she tell you? She moved out yesterday.”

    Shocked, John blinked several times. “While I was gone?”

    Richard Watson snorted as he rose off the sofa. At six feet tall, he towered over John, a giant of thick muscle offset only by his distended gut - a side effect of his drinking and a sign of what John hoped would eventually kill him. “What, you didn’t know? At all? Why do you think she went so far out of her way for your birthday? You two have never gotten on. She was trying to soften the blow.”

    “That’s a lie.” John dropped his bag by the door and took a step towards his father. The hurt from leaving Jim, the dawning truth of Harriet’s kindness, and everything else that had been brewing inside him since the first night of Jim’s show was screaming to be released. A part of him - the tiny bit that pulsed with pride when Jim complimented his boldness - urged him forward. It was dangerous to want a confrontation as badly as he did. The way he’d left Jim had instilled a need to be in control of _something_. It was like an itch beneath his skin, begging to be scratched. John tried his best to ignore it as he brought his thoughts back to Harriet. “She’s probably out with Clara. She’ll be back. She always comes back.”

    Even so, John wasn’t sure.  His father wasn’t right about their relationship.  They saw eye to eye on most things, and there was never any animosity between them. The older they got, the easier it was to simply stay in their rooms and out of each other's way. But at his party, John thought things were back to the way they’d always been.

    “That’s why I called you yesterday! So you’d get your arse back here in time to say goodbye. It’s your own Goddamn fault you were too busy with your friend to see your sister off.”

    John bristled at that. How was he supposed to know? Harriet never breathed a word of it to him. But no, she abandoned him. The tickets had been a peace offering before she left, and he’d been too excited to see it. “Well, I didn’t fucking know,” he spat. “My friend was leaving, and I wanted to spend one last day with him. If Harry had told me or called me herself, yeah, I would have come back sooner. But she didn’t. So maybe she didn’t want me here! I don’t know why it’s such a big bloody deal to you. You hate her. Hell, you hate me! Why do you care if I didn’t get to see her off?”

    “I don’t,” his father countered. “I wanted you back so your mother would shut the fuck up.”

    The mousy woman on the sofa ducked her head. John could make out a nasty yellow bruise on her cheek, partially hidden behind her dishwater blonde hair. In his absence, she paid the price. Guilt pressed down on John’s chest. _God, I’m so sorry…_

    His father bent down, and John fought to keep himself from recoiling from the stench of his breath. It was heavy with the sour scent of hops. Barely two and already he’d been drinking. “I think you owe her and me an apology, boy,” he hissed.

    “I’m sorry, Mum,” John answered. “I’m sorry I stayed out all weekend without permission. But you?” He raised his eyes to meet his father’s. “I don’t owe you shit.”  He was asking for it now, and he knew it. Pushing the limits of his father’s temper was dangerous, but after all the pain, loss, and anger left over from his time with Jim, John needed to push. He needed to stand up for himself. For once in his life, he wanted the confrontation and all the consequences that would follow.

    “Don’t you dare speak to me like that.” The words weren’t a command but a threat.

    In the silence that stretched between them, an idea came to John. A terribly dangerous idea. What would he do if he knew? How would his father react if he knew exactly what John was up to? John could tell him. With a handful of words, John could throw his weekend in his father’s face and watch him turn purple with rage. It was so tempting…

    “Not used to your whipping boys fighting back?” John fired back, grinning up at him. “You don’t scare me. You _can’t_ scare me. I’ve got nothing to lose anymore. Do you know why we never stand up to you? Why Mum sits in a near catatonic silence while you’re around? Why Harry runs off to her girlfriend’s so often? It’s because you’re a fucking _monster_. You don’t see it like that, do you? You think you’re keeping your family ‘in line,’ but you’re breaking their spirits and making them just as fucked up as you. Harry’s been drinking heavily - even sneaks your bloody whiskey now and then - to try to deal with hiding who she is from you. She’s _gay_ , Dad! And I’m… I don’t know what I am! I like men and women, and that’s fine! For fuck’s sake, we can’t talk to anyone about this, and it’s eating us from the inside out! And with you around? Christ, we’re all terrified! That’s not a fucking accomplishment for you!” The words poured out of him in a steady stream, truths he’d never voiced to his father. Truths none of their family had ever voiced. He couldn’t hold himself back once the floodgates opened. “You can’t even fucking see how horrible you are while we’re all just sitting around waiting for you to drink yourself to death!”

    For a moment, it felt incredible. Glaring up at his father with fists clenched at his sides, John felt _brave_. It was as if he was finally in control of something. Shouting at his father was far more cathartic than he expected it to be. And there was more John needed to say - about Jim and how he’d felt like there had been something there before it was snatched away. But as he opened his mouth to speak, his father surged forward. One large hand caught him by the hair and jerked him to his knees. A yelp of pain filled the room as John looked up at his father with a sneer of hatred. The look earned him a hard slap. Held in place, he didn’t rock much from the blow, though he tasted blood. It must have split his lip against his teeth.

    “Just who the fuck do you think puts the food on the table? Who keeps the roof over your ungrateful little head? It’s me, you stupid shit! I work my arse off for you and your sister and your mother, and what do you do? Stay out all fucking weekend, come into my home, and tell me you want me die? No, fuck that! I’m going to teach you a fucking lesson, boy!”

    John spat blood onto the carpet. Adrenaline kept him from cowering down and trying to escape. He could withstand anything his father dealt him as long as that rush remained. As Richard began to stomp toward his bedroom, the hand tangled in John’s hair dragged him along behind. He tried to kick away in order to to break his father’s hold, but it was futile. The moment the door opened, he was tossed unceremoniously inside, collapsing in a splayed heap on the floor. While he struggled to rise on his bruised knees, his father removed his belt and wrapped it around his fist.

    “You should have kept your mouth shut,” he snarled as he brought the leather down across John’s back. The jumper softened the blow, but it still stung. John covered his head and leaned forward, preparing for more strikes. Richard forced his shirt up as he attacked again, and the belt snapped against John’s bare skin. John screamed as the makeshift whip cut into his flesh. Again and again, Richard’s arm came down, whipping the fire out of John. Eventually, his screams faded to half-strangled sobs, and he lay curled and crying against the carpet. Blood trickled from the cuts left by the belt. Behind him, his father panted and let the leather hang from his hand. “Where’s your fire, boy? Where’s all that fight?”

    John shook his head weakly. It was drained with every blow. Everything that fueled his outburst was entirely gone, leaving him empty and aching.

    “Answer me!”

    “I’m sorry!” John gasped, squeezing his eyes shut.

    “Well, that’s a good place to start. Get the fuck up.” He took John by the arm and hauled him to his feet. As John limped along behind him, his father guided him to his bedroom. “You’re gonna stay right here. When you can move, you’re cleaning. From the time you wake up until sundown, do you understand? That’s all you’re going to do until I say otherwise. With Harriet gone, you’ve got your fucking work cut out for you. Your mother will bring your meals to your door. You fucked up, John, and you’re going to pay for it.”

    John collapsed on his bed and buried his face in his pillows. He knew he should have kept his fucking mouth shut, but - God - it’d felt good to let go. Even for just a brief moment, he felt incredible standing up to his father. Now, of course, he could see just how stupid he’d been to think he could get away with it.

    Without Harriet, he had no one to talk to. His friends didn’t know much about his home life, and today wouldn’t be good time for them to find out. Mike had some idea, but Tom didn’t know anything. Even if he did, though, neither of them could come over until the storm had passed. Sarah might listen, but she wouldn’t know what to say. Listening to her spout off twenty “I’m sorry”s in a row never helped anyway. There was no one he could turn to.

    Well, no one except perhaps Jim.

    John wiped his eyes and struggled to sit up. His bag was still by the front door, but his phone was tucked safely in his pocket. With a trembling hand, he pulled it out and scrolled through his contacts.

_Jim Moriarty._

    What if the number didn’t work? What if Jim ignored him? How would he handle that? The way they parted still filled him with pain, but John had no one else to distract him from the way his back burned with agony or the way his muscles throbbed. John took a breath and began to type.

     _Sorry I didn’t handle that better. -JW_

* * *

    Jim needed to stop dwelling.  For hours now, he had been unable to do anything but think about John’s expression after he tried to give him money: his brow pinched, his lip curled in disgust, and his eyes narrowed.  Never before had Jim seen such a look of sheer loathing.  And the fact that it was _John Watson_ , who bounced for joy every time Jim extended him even the slightest bit of attention, made Jim feel like the scum of the Earth.  His expression at the concert was the one that Jim never wanted to forget, but it couldn’t manifest properly in Jim’s mind.  He was still too fixated on what had just happened.  After all, it must be the dumbest thing Jim had ever done.  The first person who had ever made him feel like being Moriarty meant something probably hated him now.

    Rubbing his eyes, Jim poured himself another brandy.  He knew it wouldn’t help, but he could use the buzz.  Perhaps he would forget the light leaving John’s eyes and the way his shoulders had evened.  Maybe then he could recall John’s infectious laugh and the blush that reddened his face every time Jim complimented him.  Taking too large a drink, Jim sputtered.

    “Something’s wrong,” Magnussen stated, forcing Jim from his thoughts.

    “No, I’m fine,” Jim mumbled.  He flipped his phone, spinning it with the tips of his fingers.

    Magnussen stared at him for a long moment.  “That wasn’t a question, Jim.”

    Blinking, Jim replayed the sentence in his mind.  It hadn’t been, and he mentally cursed himself.  “In any case, I’m fine,” he answered, staring at the black screen of his phone.

    “It’s about that boy, isn’t it?  The blond,” Magnussen stated before leaning forward.  “Is he threatening to blackmail you?”

    Jim choked on his brandy, shocked by the insinuation.  “N-no!” he gasped out before coughing hard.  “God, no, nothing like that.  John would never-”

    “Oh, dear,” Magnussen stated, leaning back.  “You know his name.  That’s never a good sign.”

    “What?”

    Taking off his glasses, Magnussen began to clean them.  “You’re not the first rockstar I’ve managed, Jim.  I know that distant look, those long sighs, and that slumped posture.  You began toying with the hope of something more with a fan.  But you forget that you’re in a precarious situation.  People are going to use you if you give them the opening.  Humans are greedy and manipulative by nature, and there’s been more than one downfall due to a rockstar getting far too close to his groupies.”

    Jim bit back a sigh.  One of Magnussen’s favourite pastimes was to “educate” him, but he honestly never had any interest in the lessons.  After all, John wasn’t like that.  “Still, I can’t help it.  He was-”

    “You have to stop letting people play with your emotions,” Magnussen suddenly snapped.  “You fall for things far too easily, and people will abuse their power over you if you let them.  Sleeping around with groupies is one thing, but don’t ever let it become more than that.”  With that, he finished cleaning his glasses and put them back on.  “At least, not until you’re close to retiring.”

    Blanching, Jim looked up at him in startled fear.

    “Oh, don’t give me that look.  Retirement’s going to come one way or another.  But the good news is that you’ve probably got another seven years left in you.  Well, at least, that’s the best case scenario.”

    By now, Jim felt like he was going to be ill.  Luckily, his mobile’s vibration distracted him, and he saw an unsaved number light up the screen.  Breath hitching, he opened up the message.  JW.  John Watson.  He had texted him!

_Don’t worry about it in the least.  I’m sorry that I offended you.  Honestly, I wasn’t sure you would even text me. -JM_

    The speed of Jim’s reply startled John. His mobile chimed with Jim’s custom tone, and despite the pain, a smile spread across his lips. Obviously, the number was correct, and on top of that, Jim had actually written back. It felt almost too good to be true, though it didn’t overshadow his anger at what had transpired.

     _I wasn’t sure you gave me your actual number. I’m still mad, but I don’t like the thought of leaving things like that. -JW_

    He read over the message, trying to make sure it didn’t sound too desperate or mean. Fucking things up further between them was the last thing he wanted to do. What he wanted, more than anything, was to curl up in Jim’s arm and beg him to come take him away. Even if John was stuck hiding on the tour bus to avoid the paparazzi, it was preferable to being locked in his room and beaten until he couldn’t stand. Before he pressed the send button, he made one addition.

     _You deserved better. -JW_

    The vehicle stopped outside Jim’s new hotel.  Pocketing his mobile, he followed Magnussen inside.  One good thing about travelling days was that he usually didn’t perform.  His mobile vibrated, and it suddenly weighed heavier in his pocket.  John had texted him, and he wanted to know what it said.  Even so, Magnussen would notice his change in temper and figure out the cause if he hadn’t already.  Jim got his suite key and headed up.  As soon as he was inside, he yanked his phone from his pocket and read the message.

     _Of course I gave you my actual number.  I’m offended you think I wouldn’t.  And what do you mean, I deserve better? -JM_

    Laying on his stomach, John waited for the tone that would signal Jim’s next message. As time stretched on, he worried he’d done something wrong. It was stupid, of course. Jim was a performer. He was probably in a meeting or dealing with fans or en route to his next concert. All John knew was that - wherever Jim was - he wasn’t with him. A part of him wanted to check Jim’s website and find out what his schedule was. John barely restrained himself.  Thus, when the message finally came in, John checked it before the text tone even ended.

_Well, after what happened… Is it such a stretch for me to worry? I don’t mean to offend you. I wish I hadn't left so coldly even despite the money. I didn’t even get to really say goodbye. -JW_

    John had said the words, but that wasn’t enough. He hadn’t tasted Jim’s lips one last time, he hadn’t wrapped his arms around his waist, he hadn’t rested his head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat. He’d done nothing but walk away, and it had caused him nothing but grief.

    Jim flopped onto his bed.  Eventually working himself underneath the duvet, he stared anxiously at his phone as he waited.  The second the message came in, he opened it and read it so quickly that his brain only processed a small portion of it.  Slowly, he reread it.  Guilt immediately pierced his heart as John mentioned the incident.  He would give up his whole savings to build a time machine, go back, and not perform that action.  Alas, such an option didn’t exist.

     _I’m really sorry about that.  I don't think you are a whore.  I just wanted to help, and I’m only good for money. That’s it.  That’s all I ever have to offer. -JM_

    Reading his text, Jim shook his head and deleted it.  It sounded pathetic and self-deprecating for praise.

_I am genuinely sorry about that.  I never meant to imply that I thought you were a whore.  I just wanted to help.  But it doesn't seem that I'm that good at it. -JM_

    That was better, right?  He swallowed hard before sending it.

    John wanted to tell him that he did help. In fact, he was the only thing that helped. He wished he could find the words to explain how deeply it hurt and why. Jim had wanted his company, and he gave it willingly. Not because Jim was famous or rich, but because Jim made him feel good about himself. Jim encouraged him to be open and honest. Jim made him feel like it was safe to be himself, and he had liked John for who he really was. However, John couldn’t fit that in the space of a text.

_I know. I know you wanted to help, but the timing wasn’t the best. Besides, I’d never accept something like that. I like you, not your wallet. And you’re better at helping than you know. -JW_

    Jim flushed with humiliation.  Honestly, he wasn’t.  He had failed to help time and time again, and this was just another example of how.  He desperately wished he knew how to make everything better.  But that wasn’t feasible anymore.  All he could do now was try to repair the damage as best he could, and it seemed that the best course of action was to apologise.  He didn’t want to have another fight, especially not after he was lucky enough to have John actually text him.

     _I’m sorry. -JM_

    Perhaps he wouldn’t be so incompetent one day, but it seemed that today wasn’t going to be that day.  Sending off the message, he groaned and buried his face into his pillow.

    Somehow, John knew he was only making it worse. _Dammit,_ he thought, squeezing his mobile tightly. He was awful at this. Texting wasn’t enough. John wouldn’t be able to fix the mess through small, short messages. He pushed himself up a little, wincing at the fresh pain that shot through his back, and grabbed a tissue from the nightstand. Once his eyes were dry and his nose clear, he sent off a final message.

     _Can I just call you? Please? I want to fix this. -JW_

    Jim heard his phone buzz, and he groaned.  He didn’t want to look at it.  It would just remind him what an arse he had been.  Sighing, he grudgingly looked up and opened the text.  A call?  That was a good sign, wasn’t it?  However,he wasn’t sure if it was the best move for them.  After all, John’s voice might just cause him to remember their last encounter with even more clarity.  He knew he couldn’t refuse, though.  He’d rather relive such memories than to let John down again.

_If you want to, of course.  I’ve got nothing scheduled for the night. -JM_

    Indifference was good enough for John. As soon as he was sure his voice would be under control, he took a breath and dialed Jim’s number.  “Jim?” he asked quietly as soon as he heard the ringer click over. His heart was beating so loudly that he was positive Jim could hear it through the line.

    Jim answered the phone almost as soon as it began to ring.  Carefully, he cradled it against his ear as John’s soft voice called out his name.  “Hello, John,” he murmured, being just as quiet.  He liked the soft volume.  It was as if they were telling each other secrets.  Closing his eyes, he let out a deep breath and pretended that the weight of his mobile wasn’t there.  John was in the room with him, just doing something.  Perhaps he was unpacking his suitcase or brushing his teeth.

    Even though it had only been a few hours since he’d last heard Jim’s voice, John’s heart swelled at the sound. He closed his eyes, and a smile toyed at the corners of his lips. “You do help, Jim. You help more than you’ll ever know. I understand that w-we didn’t have much time together, but somehow you still managed to give me something I never thought I’d find in myself. You made me confident. You made me feel like I mattered. And I’ve never felt that way before.” Once or twice as he spoke, his voice trembled and interrupted his words. John was baring part of his soul to someone he had never expected to. Jim, of course, wouldn’t know that this was a huge show of trust, but John knew he might be able to tell him someday. “You’re more than your wallet, more than your fame… Hell, you’re even more than your music. You’re a good man, Jim.”

    Jim let out a shuddering breath as he heard those words.  How did John always know exactly what to say to him?  Wasn’t he supposed to be the lyricist?  “You do matter,” he whispered.  His body began to grow heavy with sleep.  “And the fact that I hurt you so greatly in those last moments-”  Suddenly, his voice cracked with emotion, and he cleared his throat to cover it up.  He couldn’t get upset now.  “Sorry.  It’s just that I thought I ruined everything.”  With that, he breathed out slowly.  He wanted to beg for forgiveness, but he didn’t dare.  How pathetic would that sound anyway?  He had known this lad for just over 48 hours, and he already couldn’t stand to hurt him.  If there was ever such a thing as true love, he was sure that this is what it would feel like.

    “No!” John whispered quickly, hearing the way his voice cracked. “No, it’s fine. Neither of us handled that well, but you didn’t ruin it. And don’t just entirely blame yourself. Please, Jim. It hurt, but it’s over now, and there’s… Well, we have this. This helps. God, does this help. I was so worried that we were going to leave it like that, and I couldn’t stand the thought.” John squeezed the phone a little tighter, as if afraid it would vanish and cut him off from Jim for good. “I’m so, so sorry, Jim.”

    Humming, Jim responded, “You have nothing to be sorry about.”  For a moment, he paused.  “This is nice, though, isn’t it?”  His exhausted state always caused him to be far more open than he should be.  And when talking to someone like John, it became dangerous.  “No one ever calls me nowadays.  I mean, I can’t exactly blame them.  Between the tours, the recording, and the interviews, I never have time.  And they got used to that.  It seems the only person who uses this number anymore is my manager.”  After a moment’s pause, he worried that the same would happen with John.  He wouldn’t exactly blame him.  After all, if his parents gave up, what hope remained?

    “Yeah, it’s very nice,” John replied, adjusting against the mattress. He covered the microphone to hide the groans as his aching back shifted. Jim didn’t need to worry, considering everything else on his plate. “I love being able to hear your voice, even if we’re countries apart. It’s - well - romantic! And I’m sorry no one calls you, but when you’re not busy, I will. If that’s alright, I mean. I don’t want to be a bother.” John really wanted Jim to tell him it was okay. Knowing that they could keep in touch outside of texting was so important to him. Jim’s voice was like a balm, soothing over his anger from the hotel and the bite of his father’s belt. It would be more than enough if Jim would grant it to him.

    Jim smiled.  “I would like that very much,” he replied before feeling himself begin to drift.  Even so, he remembered the one important thing he needed to ask.  “I hope your family wasn’t too upset.”  If anything had happened to John because of his own selfishness, Jim would never forgive himself.

    It was an offhand comment, but it still struck John deeply. Jim still didn’t know about his situation, and this was hardly the time to fill him in. What was he supposed to say? “Oh, yeah, they were completely fine. Made me cake and sent me to bed!”? No, he couldn’t lie, but he couldn’t be honest either.

    “Um… There was a bit of an argument. Nothing serious. I’m fine.” His voice wavered as he spoke, and John was worried the slight crack would give him away.

    Something wasn’t quite right.  Jim could feel it in his gut.  However, he was far too tired to register exactly what it was.  “I’m sorry I’m not much of a conversationalist tonight.  As you might remember, I didn’t exactly sleep last night, so I’m just a bit exhausted.”  He paused a moment, slowly processing what he had just implied.  “B-but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to talk to you!  I do.  It’s just that I might -”  With that, he took in a deep breath.  “If I pass out, please understand it’s not because you’re boring.”

“No, no, th-that’s fine.” Jim was right. He hadn’t slept the night before, instead staying up to work on his new song. John felt terrible for keeping him from a proper rest. It seemed his presence did more harm than good. “I’ll just - um - go. I need to sleep myself.  So I’ll just talk to you later then? You deserve to get a good night’s sleep.” For the first time since leaving the hotel, John was glad Jim couldn’t see him. His head fell in embarrassment, and he scrubbed a hand down his tear-stained face.

    Jim’s fantasy was shattered.  In the end, John wasn’t there.  His warmth was absent, the mattress didn’t contain the dip of his weight, and his voice was about to disappear for who knew how long.  He wanted to explain that John shouldn’t go because - at the very least - Jim wanted to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.  How could he ever express that without sounding needy or selfish?  With a long sigh, he tried to joke, “You’re not even going to sing me a lullaby or tell me a bedtime story?”

    “If that’s what you want.  I mean, I’m not a good singer, but I can do stores,” John replied. “Or I can just leave the line open until you wake up. If - uh - if you don’t think that’s creepy.” Honestly, he found it adorable that Jim would even tease like that. It made him feel like maybe Jim didn’t want him to go. Closing his eyes, John tried to imagine Jim curled beside him with one hand tucked under his cheek. Would his eyes be open or closed? Open, more than likely, until he couldn’t help but close them. He’d watch the way John’s mouth moved as he spoke, likely hooked onto every word until he fell asleep. God, he’d give anything to see that.

    Smiling, Jim replied, “I would never ask you to waste your minutes and mobile battery like that.  But I would be thrilled with a good bedtime story.” He knew it would cause a dilemma.  Should he try to listen until the end of the story just to hear John talk?  Or should he try to fall asleep before it was over so he didn’t have to lose the sound of John’s voice?  Either way, he wasn’t about to let this opportunity go.  John’s voice was whispering softly in his ear, and he would keep it there for as long as he could.  “Tell me a bedtime story, Johnny.”

    John took a laboured breath and began to speak. It wasn’t hard to make something up on the fly, especially given their situation. However, it deserved a far happier ending. “Once upon a time, there was a king who was born with the gift of song. Every night, he walked up to the highest tower in his palace and sang the sun to sleep.  And every night, his subjects would gather to listen to his beautiful voice. Some, in order to show their reverence, left gifts at the foot of the tower in return.

    A boy from a distant village heard from the wanderers who travelled through his small town about the captivating voice of the handsome king. The boy longed to hear him for himself. So, with barely enough provisions to get him there, he set out. Every night, he dreamed of the king: raven-haired, the stories claimed, with eyes like the earth after a hard rain, fair skin that remained unmarred and slender frame. It was the boy’s dream to finally look upon the king with his own eyes. Upon his arrival, he revealed his prized possession: a brilliant blue cloak. While the crowd waited, he kept his eyes turned up to the window to await the famous king.

    The king stepped up to the open window as the light began to fade, and the boy felt his heart fluttering within his chest.  He was even more beautiful than the stories claimed. As the song began, the boy felt his breath entirely leave him.

‘The day has passed beyond its power,  
And in this, her fading breath,  
Night will claim the skies this hour  
As he hastens toward his death.

Sleep, love, forever sleep  
Safe, this night your souls will keep.  
Embrace the darkness deep,  
Sleep, love, forever sleep.

Dream, my friends, of the dark above,  
And feel the heavy dreaming sands  
Of the day’s consort, and of his love  
for those cupped within his hands. 

Sleep, love, forever sleep.  
Safe, this night your souls will keep.  
Embrace the darkness deep,  
Sleep, love, forever sleep.’

    The crowd was silent from start to finish, and the boy looked up at the king with adoration and joy. He’d never felt so at ease, and to experience that from just one song? With his cloak held out, he approached the tower slowly. He then knelt before it and lay the offering down. One hand rose to his lips, and he kissed his fingers, gently touching them against the stone.

    ‘Thank you,’ he whispered before he rose to leave.

    Now, the king looked down upon the throng and noticed the boy. Torchlight flickered off his golden hair, and - even through the dirt of his travels - the king could see his beauty. That night, when the guards went down to collect his tribute, he ordered them to find the boy as well.  They were surprised by the orders. Travellers were not new to the king, but there was something different about the dirty boy with the pristine cobalt cloak.

    As the boy drank cheap mead in the tavern, one of the guards approached him and demanded for him to come with them but wouldn't say why. He was terrified, but he followed the guard nonetheless. Up and up and up the spiral stone stairs they went until he finally entered the king’s lavish chamber. Draped in fineries and reclining on his bed, the king was scrawling down the song on a scroll. There were hundreds filling a shelf along one of the far curved walls, and there were so many that the scrolls were on the brink of falling out!

    With a smile, the king motioned for the boy to join him. Instead, he knelt beside the bed and looked up at him. ‘Where are you from?’ the king asked.

    ‘I come from a small village many days’ travel from here, your Majesty. I traveled nonstop to reach your city for your song. Tales of your prowess reach far and wide, even to outlying towns.’

    Such dedication moved the king, and he helped the boy rise to his feet. ‘Then surely you must be exhausted. Sleep in my chambers tonight. When tomorrow comes, I will send you home with provisions.’

    The boy couldn’t believe his luck. The king was offering to let him sleep within his heavily-guarded tower. He accepted readily, and the king ushered him into his bed. Surprised by the king’s closeness as he drifted off to sleep, the boy’s last thoughts were of the sweet song that still lingered in his ears.

    Upon waking, the king realized he didn’t want to send the boy back to his village. He bathed and dressed while his guest slumbered, and he sat at his desk to think. There had to be a way to keep him in the city. The solution finally came to him just as the boy began to stir. ‘You do not have to leave,’ the king said as he crossed back to the bed.

    ‘I don’t?’ the boy replied.

    The king shook his head and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘You are kind and humble. If you want to stay, you are worthy of my time and company, and you are more than welcome here. Everything you could possibly need will be provided for you.’

    Hope rose in the boy’s heart. He wanted nothing more to stay with the king and listen to his song every evening, for as long as he lived. ‘I would love to,’ he agreed, ‘but all I require is your song. No gold, no jewels, no fineries. Just you, my king, and your nightly serenade.’ It was then that he noticed something that brought tears to his eyes.  The king was wearing the cloak he’d offered the night before.

    And they lived happily ever after,” John concluded with a small chuckle. “It’s not a very good story, but at least it’s happy.”

    “Iliked it verymuch,” Jim slurred out, his words starting to run together as he struggled to stay awake.  It had been longer than he expected.  However, it was sweet.  And although he hadn’t noted the parallels, he smiled at the thought of the king and boy living happily ever after.  Happy endings were the best.  “Fairytales are my favourite.”  Slowly, his breathing deepened, and he could feel himself beginning to drift.  “Johnny, youdeserveahappilyeverafter.  Youdeserveaking.”  His words were becoming harder to discern, even to himself.  And then without warning, he passed out.

    “I had one,” John whispered, closing his eyes. “I had one, but he couldn’t stay.” As tears rose behind his eyelashes, John made a wish. _Just let this have a happy ending. Please…_

    When Jim’s snores began, John managed a small smile and set the phone aside. Exhausted from his father’s assault and drained and weary from the ordeal at the hotel, it didn’t take long for him to drift off into a fitful sleep. Laying on his chest made getting comfortable difficult, but it was the only option he had. His phone rested on the pillow beside him, and Jim’s occasional noises kept most of the nightmares at bay.

    Jim woke to the sound of his phone beeping angrily.  Disoriented, he fumbled about for a moment before managing to find it.  Low Battery, it read.  He groaned and rolled over, reaching down into his dufflebag and rooting around for his mobile charger.  After several moments, Jim actually managed to find it.  He shoved it into the wall before getting his mobile onto the charger.  
    5:31:54.

    He stared at the numbers, trying to decipher their meaning as they continued to increase.  When he heard a voice from the other side of the line, though, he realised John must have fallen asleep with his phone on.  “Johnny,” Jim crooned softly.  “Johnny-boy.”

    The few dreams that haunted John’s mind that night repeatedly came down to two things: the bite of the belt and the hopelessness at the hotel. During a particularly horrible scene in which his father was telling him Jim saw him as nothing more than a common whore, a voice cut through the fog of sleep. John unconsciously rolled toward the phone. It was instinct. A comforting voice calling his name, and John wanted to be close. Pain shot through his back as he shifted, though, and he jolted awake with a yelp. “Fuck!” he spat, squeezing his eyes shut against the throb. He took the phone and squinted at the glowing numbers as soon as he could stand to open his eyes. “Oh… Jim?” Blood coloured his cheeks as he realized the call was still connected.

    “I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jim murmured, feeling guilty.  John’s panicked awakening was all his fault.  He should have just hung up without a word.  After all, John had been peacefully sleeping, so it wasn't as though he would have known.  “I just thought - you know - you probably are paying a fortune.”

    “No! No, you didn’t scare me, I just… I banged my arm on the wall. It’s alright. And I-” It was then he noticed the numbers as well. Five hours. The call had been connected for five hours, and his father would see that on the bill when it arrived. “Oh, fuck! You’re right. I shouldn’t- Fuck! Okay. Is it okay if I hang up? I can text all I want, but…” But if his father saw calls this long, John might lose his phone altogether - and with it, his only means of talking to Jim.

    “It’s fine.  Hang up and go back to bed,” Jim whispered, smiling.  He could never admit it, but it felt nice to fall asleep to the sound of John’s breathing.  Even though he couldn’t be here, it was something substantial.  And it was something Jim never had before.  Despite all logic, Jim felt like John’s proper boyfriend.  Falling asleep on the phone with someone seemed to be a thing only couples did.  Immediately, he knew that he was treading into dangerous waters.  He needed to take a step back.  After all, he didn’t depend on John.  He shouldn’t have to.  “We’ll text later, alright?”

    “Do you promise?” John asked almost hesitantly. “I mean, I don’t want to bother you during a show or a meeting, but will you text me when you’re not busy?” Waking up to Jim’s voice was almost too good to be true. Most people usually took it for granted, but this was _Jim Moriarty_ , and he’d stayed on the line all night. Sure, his father would skin him when he got the bill, but John couldn’t help himself. It was worth it. Jim was worth anything, even with their missteps.

    “Mmhmm,” Jim hummed in response, smiling at the thought.  He would like to have a reason to look at his mobile besides checking the time.  And in all honesty, it gave him hope that maybe they could eventually be together again.  “If I’m busy, I’ll try to send you a ‘busy’ text.  But when I’m not, I’ll be more than happy to text you.”  With that, he began to chuckle.  “Just don’t try to get me to help with your homework.  I dropped out of uni for a reason.”  He would let John assume what he wanted from that statement. Most people didn’t know that he quit because he was bored.  Being a genius meant that classes weren’t at all challenging, and he would rather not waste any more of his time.

    “Wouldn’t dream of it,” John replied with a smile. “And thank you. For everything. For this weekend and for everything that might come in the future. Goodnight, Jim.”

    “Goodnight, Johnny-boy,” Jim responded, a bit wary by the previous statement.  How was it that they were already so attached?  “Sleep well.  Talk to you later.”

    “I’ll talk to you later, Jim.” He hesitated a moment. “I miss you.” John hung up quickly and repositioned himself on his stomach. It had been a desperate long shot, but he wanted Jim to know how he felt. Of course, hanging up afterward defeated the purpose, but that didn’t matter to John. He’d worked up the nerve for that final comment, and it was good enough for him.

_“I miss you.”_

    Those words rang in Jim’s ears.  This was beyond dangerous now.  Jim’s career balanced precariously at all times, and he always juggled everything perfectly in order to keep it all from collapsing.  However, John might be one thing too many.  If he let this continue, there was a real chance that it could backfire for both of them.  What he should do is block John’s number and sever him from his life.  After sending him a text to explain everything, of course.  He wouldn’t, though, and that was the deadliest part of it all.  For some inexplicable reason, he already missed John as well.  He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes.  Tomorrow, he would be interviewed by some local morning news anchorman then he would go to interview with some radio DJ.  In essence, he would be busy, and he hoped John would be, too, so they could not fixate on how empty the bed was without the other person there.

    Or perhaps it was only Jim who had these thoughts.  It was impossible to tell.

    Part of John knew that it couldn’t continue. Soon, Jim would stop taking John’s calls and replying to his texts. It was inevitable. He’d made it clear in the restaurant that there was nothing more to what they had - that there _couldn’t_ be more - and John hadn’t forgotten how badly the truth cut through him. Jim was humoring him now.  And that was fine. Pushing the inevitable separation away wasn’t healthy, but it gave John a little more time to be happy and pretend. After all, pretending was all he had now. 


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life without Jim is difficult, but their mobile connection keeps them together in more ways than one. Unfortunately, that can't last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! We're here with another update! We really hope you enjoy this chapter - there's a lot of development going on, with Jim and John's relationship, and the stress of Jim's career is starting to get to him. There's still a lot left to resolve, so bear with us! We have a lot more in store for you!
> 
> Thank you for every hit, and for every kudos, and every comment or share. It means so much to us, and really encourages us to keep working!

    Jim hated interviews.  Unfortunately, it was a necessary evil in his line of work.  Morning shows were the worst.  He had to wake up at half past four in the morning just to be there by five.  Then they would do his makeup and hair before sending him out around six in order to be interviewed.  By then, he had to place on a charming - albeit faux - smile and pretend that they were asking such new and interesting questions.

    “How’s the tour going?”

    “How do you feel up on stage?”

    “Do you ever get stage fright or jitters?”

    “Do you have any special routine before going out on stage?  Any superstitions?”

    “Favourite venue?”

    “How do you find our city?”

    “This is your nth time being here.  What’s changed for you?”

    “What do you like most about being here?”

    “Craziest fan story?”

    The list went on and on.

    Worse than that, though, was when the interviewer decided that he or she was entitled to more information than just a plug for the tour.  When Jim walked over to the desk, he could immediately tell that this interviewer wasn’t going to be pleasant.  There was just something in her manner - the way she held herself, perhaps, or how she spoke - that rubbed Jim the wrong way.  She went through the normal questions, which Jim was actually relieved to hear, and he answered as amiably as possible.

    Just when he thought that perhaps he had been wrong about her, she said, “So you are a private man.  You think your privacy is very important, correct?”

    Instantly, Jim could feel that he was stepping onto thin ice.  “That’s correct.  I believe every person has a public and private side.  Unfortunately, celebrities have a harder time keeping those two aspects separate.”

    “I see.  And do you personally find it difficult?” she pressed, keeping that false sweet smile on her face.

    Jim knew a trap when he saw one.  She was testing her boundaries, seeing how he felt.  “Indeed,” he replied.  “Most people feel entitled to all aspects of my life.  Some, however, I simply refuse to share.”

    “I understand,” she murmured, although Jim doubted that.  After a moment’s pause, she commented, “So if you were dating someone, would you acknowledge it?”

    Instantly, Jim felt his adrenaline surge.  He sat straighter up and looked her in the eye.  “If I were asked such a question, I would answer it honestly.  However, I would not divulge that person’s name until I have either spoken to that person or decided that we are committed enough to face the paparazzi head-on.”  Staring deep into her eyes, he replied, “If you think I am very protective of my privacy - as you seem to - I will let you know that I would be fiercely protective of that person, whomever it may be.  I’m nice to a point, but I’m not just a charming man with a brilliant smile.  These teeth are sharp, and I know how to bite.”

    She was obviously startled by the sudden declaration.  “So is there someone then?”

    John Watson's name crossed his mind without any bidding, and he suppressed it.  Sitting back, he answered, “I’m in the middle of a tour, and I honestly haven’t had the time to cultivate a relationship.  Perhaps, though, after the tour…  But that’s still a ways off.”

    Luckily, she had been startled enough to understand where he was leading the conversation.  Instead of pressing for more details about how he would hypothetically act, she nodded and smiled.  “Of course.  How much longer do you have until the tour is over?”

    “Just a few weeks left,” Jim informed her, glad for the change of subject.  Honestly, he wasn’t sure how to answer that question anymore.  Was there something between him and John?  Or was it merely wishful thinking?  There was a difference between hoping for something and actually being able to have it.  He certainly hoped that something might happen between them, but he didn’t expect it to.  John’s education was in the way, for one.  For another, his family hated Jim, and that would cause issues.  And then there was the enlistment that John mentioned.  That very thought caused Jim’s stomach to churn.  In any case, nothing could happen until after the tour was over.  “I’m not really counting, though.  I’ve been having far too much fun!”

* * *

    “Congratulations!  You’re all over the internet,” Magnussen stated, handing Jim his iPad.  “Usually, I would rebuke someone for using such harsh language and open threats, but girls are swooning left and right over it.  Each of them are fantasizing about being that one girl who you would fight tooth and nail to protect.  Your sales will shoot up again thanks to this little stunt.”

    Jim pressed his lips together in a thin line.  It wasn’t entirely a stunt, but he was sure Magnussen already knew that.  “I’m glad that some good came out of it.”

    “However, I am concerned.”

    Handing the iPad back, Jim felt an argument about to start.  A surge of adrenaline prepared him for it.  “Oh?”

    “We’ve talked about this before, but I know that you’re still toying around with the idea about that boy-”

    “John,” Jim cut in.

    “-and we both know what would happen if you came out.  Or would you like to become the Clay Aiken of the rock and roll world?” Magnussen pressed, peering at Jim from over his glasses.

    Jim swallowed hard.  He knew that his sales would plummet if anyone ever found out about his sexuality.  Sure, many fans genuinely loved his music, but there was a power in hope.  Each girl had the hope that Moriarty would see her and just _know_ that she was the one.  With that taken away, not nearly as many albums would be sold, and concert tickets would take a staggering blow.

    “I have no intentions of coming out,” Jim informed him, scowling.

    “Good,” Magnussen stated.  “And make sure it stays that way.”

    With that, he walked off.  Jim was alone with about two hours before the next interview.  He hoped John perhaps hadn’t seen the news yet, so they could have a normal conversation.  Before he could contemplate the significance of his desire to contact John again so soon, he sent a quick text.

     _What’re you up to? -JM_

    As fate would have it, John hadn’t seen the news that morning. Exhausted from the previous day’s moments of utter Hell, John slept late into the afternoon. When he did finally wake, he nibbled at the cold eggs his mother left him and set about cleaning the house. His father left clear instructions: John was to begin with the cellar and work his way up and through the house properly. The thought of the cellar left him nauseous. John didn’t mix well with the dank basement. An incident a few years prior had left him reeling at the very thought of the steep wooden stairs leading down into its depths.

     _Please! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!_

    His own pathetic cries echoed in his mind as he cleaned up the broken jars and swept up the dust that coated the floor. After winning a rugby match, John had brought Mike Stamford home to celebrate. One thing had led to another, and the boys ended up kissing on the bed. John’s father found them embracing and, after coolly ordering Mike to leave, grabbed John by the arm and forced him toward the basement. His large fist collided with John’s torso as he shouted homophobic slurs, and one strong push sent him sprawling down the stairs. In the fall, John’s arm had snapped - a clean break, at least - and his head collided with the cement floor. Two days in the darkness, concussed and in pain, had culminated in him cowering beside the door and sobbing his promises.

     _Never again! I swear, Dad. Please! I won’t do it again!_

    Ever since, he made up excuses to avoid returning to the cellar. It seemed his father had noticed. John forced himself to focus on his cleaning and push the memories away. No pain, no lies told to the kind doctor, no fear of it happening again. That was in the past, and the sooner he finished, the sooner he could limp back to his bedroom.

    Hours later, he glanced around the tidied room. It was done. Hurrying up the stairs, John lugged the broom and the trash bag up with him, glad to finally be free. The kitchen wasn’t too dirty, much to his delight. The dishes would need to be washed, and the floor swept and mopped, but then he could move on. As he filled the sink with dishwater, his phone chimed. Jim.

     _Cleaning. Part of my punishment. You? -JW_

    Jim was glad to hear that John’s punishment was just doing chores.  It would have been terrible had he lost privileges because of Jim’s short-sighted desires.  Even so, Jim still wasn’t thrilled that he couldn’t do anything to lessen John’s sentence.  Should he apologise?  Part of him felt like he should, but John knew what would happen when he stayed.  Perhaps then he wasn’t entirely at fault?  Either way, it didn’t settle well with Jim.

     _Sounds fascinating.  Found any dust monsters yet? -JM_

    Leaning against the counter while the pans soaked, John texted him back with a small smile. There was something inherently cute about his question, and - after the way his day had been going - he needed the distraction.

    _No, but I’ve found plenty of other monsters. -JW_

    Puzzled by the response, Jim stared at his mobile for a long moment.  He felt concerned, but he couldn’t explain why.  He forced himself to brush aside the concern as mere paranoia.  If something was actually wrong, John would say so.  After all, he must know that Jim cared about him.

     _Spiders, I am assuming.  -JM_

    The thought made John laugh. Insects and arachnids didn’t bother him in the slightest. How could he explain it to Jim without filling him in on everything? With the tour, the last thing Jim needed was to fret over John’s safety. No, it wasn’t the right time to open up about his father yet.

     _More like ghosts. Spiders I don’t mind, but certain parts of my house bring back bad memories. -JW_

    Frowning, Jim examined those words repeatedly.  That nagging at the back of his mind returned, and he hesitated.  It would be better, he hoped, to keep things light and friendly.  There was no need to dwell.  Thus, Jim decided to let John in on a secret that he swore he would never speak to anyone about.

_I understand.  The attic used to scare me to death.  I have a brother, you know, and he once hid up there for five hours in order to scare me.  I screamed bloody murder and pissed my pants when he popped out.  He’s got a photo to prove it, too. -JM_

    Despite the fact it wasn’t quite the same in the slightest, John snorted. The idea of a tiny Jim, so scared when his brother appeared out of nowhere in the spooky attic, was adorable. It must be nice to have memories like that instead of ones filled with pain and terror. He had good memories with Harry, of course, but they were few and far between when compared to the memories of his father. Still, it had brought a smile to his face - something only Jim seemed able to do lately.

_That’s cute. And kind of gross. -JW_

_It’s embarrassing more so than cute. -JM_

    Jim hoped that had cheered John up a bit.  After all, cleaning wasn’t exactly the most fun activity.  It was one of the reasons Jim appreciated such lengthy tours.  All he ever had to do was leave the room, and it would be cleaned by the time he returned.

_Shall I leave you to it then?  We can always text later. -JM_

_The distraction is nice, to be honest. It’s better than being alone with my thoughts. -JW_

    In truth, texting Jim made everything feel more normal. John could pretend his back wasn’t covered in cuts and dark bruises and that he was cleaning by choice. It was certainly a stretch, but he made it work.

    Jim couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride when he heard that.  John clearly wanted to continue their conversation, and it made Jim feel important in a different way than usual.  Grinning widely, he tapped away on his phone as quickly as possible, wanting to show that he was interested in continuing the conversation as well.

     _Well, I can say that - although my day might not be as productive - I have already completed one of two interviews. -JM_

_Oh? They ask you how often you work out to fit into your outfits? Or if your diet allows you to eat sweets? You could give them quite a story about your last dessert.  -JW_

    John set his phone aside to wash a few of the dirtier pans, giving Jim time to respond. There were other things he wanted to know, of course, but opening with a joke wasn’t a bad idea. Besides, he was more than a little curious as to how Jim would react to the allusion of their time together.

    Jim chuckled.  That question was one he got often enough, and he was surprised to realise she hadn’t asked him once about his physique.  Perhaps she had been too preoccupied with his potential love life?

_Indeed I could have.  But instead of asking for that, she decided that she was going to invade my privacy._

    Stopping, he shook his head and deleted the text.  John would probably find out about the details of the interview soon enough.  For now, they had a nice, little banter going on that he wanted to keep up.

  _Indeed.  Unfortunately, it was even worse than that: she asked about the tour. -JM_

    John didn’t see the problem with that. Wouldn’t discussing the tour bring in more potential concert-goers? Maybe last-minute purchases for the morning crowd’s kids or grandkids? It didn’t seem like it should be such a controversial subject, but then again, Jim wasn’t like any other man he knew. Maybe it just reminded him of the monotony of travel.

_Is that really so bad? I mean, repeating yourself is boring, but it’s always good when people are interested in your actual work and not whom you’re sleeping with. -JW_

    Jim realised that John hadn’t caught the joke.  That’s what he got, he supposed, by texting.  However, it was too late to correct it now, and he would much rather feel like the idiot than make John feel stupid.  Besides, John would probably find that out soon enough and feel silly about his previous comment.  In any case, Jim was going to let it slide.

     _No, no, obviously not.  It’s just that she asked the same questions as everyone else, and it gets boring.  Especially after being with you for two days. -JM_

    Being with him made things different? How? He was just some fan, one of millions. A blond kid from London who happened to be in the right place at the right time. Was he really so good that Jim looked to their weekend when he needed a break from the boredom? John grinned, feeling pleased with himself. He’d left an impression then. That was incredible.

     _Did you tell her you saw a different side of London? -JW_

    Jim couldn’t help but laugh when he read that.  It still astounded him just how sharp John was.  For a lad only 17 years of age, he had the wit of a 23-year-old.

_Alas, I wish I had been so witty.  But fortunately, she was far more interested in my opinion of Bristol than London. -JM_

_Bristol? Is that where you’re heading next? Or are you already there? -JW_

    While John dried the plates, he wondered if there’d be someone else in Bristol. Jim met a lot of fans, of course, and he knew Magnussen didn’t approve of Jim’s “fraternization” with him. Would he find someone else to fill his empty bed? Maybe a woman to protect his image? Surely Magnussen would steer him toward someone his own age so they could be seen together in public. The thought made him feel sick.

    The truth was that John had come to think of himself as Jim’s that first night, laying spent and sweaty in his arms. And, though it was ridiculous, he felt like Jim was his. He couldn’t be, of course. Jim didn’t belong to anyone, and if he did pick a partner, John knew it wouldn’t be a seventeen-year-old he fucked twice and never saw again. Even so, it was hard to shake the possessiveness rearing up in his chest.

_That’s where I am now, Johnny-boy.  Did you already stop keeping tabs on me?  =P -JM_

    Jim hated emoticons.  Honestly, he thought they were the most ridiculous creations on the face of the planet.  However, John had already misunderstood one of his texts, so he wanted to ensure that it was clear that he was just teasing.

     _A little face? Really?_ John giggled as he set everything into their proper cabinets. It was probably to underline the fact he was joking, but it was still painfully cute. That was one of the messages he knew he’d save if he ever had to clean up his inbox.

   _Well, I’m not going to waste my time stalking you. I’d be terrible at it anyway. You’d hear me coming from a block away! -JW_

    Smirking mischievously, Jim wrote back: _I better not hear you /coming/ from a block away.  I would be very jealous, Johnny. -JM_

    However, when he sent it, he blanched.  Was that alright to say?  Or should he have just let the joke go?  He groaned and buried his face into his hands.  It had never been so difficult to talk to someone before!  Why John then?  Why was is hard to talk to the only person who mattered?  Jim dreaded the sound of his ringer, not knowing how John was going to react.

    As John read over the message, he leaned against the counter for support. Was Jim flirting with him? It wasn’t such a stretch, considering how they had spent their time together, but it still made him feel wonderful. John peeked around the kitchen, making sure he was actually alone before typing his reply.

_Would you? I’ll certainly keep that in mind. If you hear me, after all, it should be because of you. -JW_

    Jim heard his mobile ring with a text, and he let out a long breath.  That was definitely John.  Picking up his mobile, he instinctively opened the message before taking a peek.  His heart skipped as his eyes skimmed the words, and he had to do a double-take in order to absorb everything.  John Watson was either teasing him or willing to wait for him, both of which were dangerous circumstances for him.  Even so, Jim had never been one to stay on the safe side.

_I’m so glad we agree. -JM_

_The question then becomes ‘Am I allowed to do it myself so long as I share with you?’ Always an option what with the internet and our mobiles... -JW_

    John hesitated a moment. Texting Jim like this was thrilling, even though he knew nothing could come of it. But what if he pushed too far? What if he crossed a line Jim wasn’t comfortable with? With all that had transpired in the hotel room, John was fairly certain Jim’s limits were few and far between, but was he willing to risk it?

    Yes. Yes, he was. John pressed send and let the message go.

    Jim balked at the response, shocked John had the gall to send it to him.  Before long, though, he was amused by it.  Even miles away, John managed to be a breath of fresh air.  Jim remembered yet again why he didn’t want to give John up despite the fact that he should.  Sighing, he wondered what John would think once he heard about the interview.  There’s no way he wouldn’t hear about it unless John didn’t keep any tabs on him whatsoever.  If that was the case, Jim had a feeling that he would be disappointed.

     _You’re quite the little shit!  I should have never told you it was alright to tease me. -JM_

    He couldn’t bear to add another emoticon.  Honestly, he would strangle himself with his bare hands first.  Without a moment’s hesitation, he sent the text.

    Even though he couldn’t tell if Jim meant it affectionately, John smiled at the message. He typed out a response as he limped into the living room.

_You know you like it. I’m not sorry in the slightest. -JW_

    His bag still sat where he’d dropped it the day before. He was glad his father hadn’t binned it or worse. It was full of mementos from his weekend with Jim, including the things he’d autographed and the ticket stubs from the show. Though the living room needed to be vacuumed and his father’s trash needed to be cleaned up, John grabbed the small bag and headed back to his room. The rest could wait for now. He had time.

    Jim let out a sigh of relief when he got the response.  It seemed that John was finally catching on.  Looking over at the clock, he noted that he didn’t have too much time left.  Even so, he wasn’t going to remove his nose from his mobile until the last possible second.  He was having far too much fun, and it made him miss John less.

_You shouldn’t use that sort of logic against me.  It makes too much sense. -JM_

_What sort of logic would that be? -JW_

    John busied himself with hanging his newly-signed photo right above his bed. As soon as his back was healed, he would be able to stretch out and stare up at it every night. The autographed CD case was propped against his lamp, easily within sight. John wouldn’t let the memories of the weekend fade, no matter how his contact with Jim ended. When he was finished redecorating, he lay down on his side and flipped on the television.

   _The logical kind? -JM_

    Honestly, Jim didn’t know how to answer John on that one, but he was too nervous about the conversation dying to allow that message to go alone.

_How is cleaning going? -JM_

    Stifling a giggle, John grinned down at the phone. There something extremely cute about the message. _The logical logic,_ John thought, snorting as he answered Jim’s second question.

_I gave up. I’m going to get an earful for stopping early, but I needed to rest. How’s being a superstar going? -JW_

    A snippet of Jim’s voice caught his attention as he set the phone aside. The news was replaying the morning’s interview, and - although Jim had clearly distracted the interviewer - the anchors were discussing how defensive he’d been. John listened to him chide the woman, shivering at the threat left hanging in the air. Being on the other side of the public, John knew where it came from. Jim wasn’t “out,” and he couldn’t exactly tell the world his choice in groupies ran so young. But the way Jim swore to protect whomever he spent his time with kept John teetering between being angry Jim couldn’t be open about his life and pleased that he cared so much.

_It’s been better.  Not that I’m complaining, of course. -JM_

    He got up, knowing that Magnussen would be calling him down soon. They needed to prep since the interviewer was probably going to bring up his earlier interview.  If he got riled up again, people would start to suspect and point fingers.  That was the last thing he needed.

    _I’m just hoping this interview is better than the earlier one. -JM_

     _Just caught that one myself, actually. It gave me chills. You certainly know how to make an impression. -JW_

    John chuckled to himself. That was one way of describing it. Jim could be absolutely terrifying when he was furious without even raising his voice or making a threatening move. Past interviews had proven that to John, and the newest one only made it clearer. It was fascinating. It was… well, sexy.

   _I’m flattered, by the way. -JW_

    Jim frowned when he heard that John had found out.  It was only a matter of time, of course.  Even so, it concerned him slightly that he had managed to scare John with his statement.  Most of his fans were swooning with fantasies about being in a relationship with him, but the same declaration had scared John.  That wasn’t promising in the least.  Then again, John had always been different.  Pulling on his leather jacket, he opened up the door and started down the hall.  He was almost to the lift when he heard his mobile chime again.  Quickly, he read the message, and his eyebrows went up as his heart sank.

    This was bad.  If John knew about Jim’s feelings for him then why didn’t he make an effort to stay?  Jim just assumed he left because he didn’t know.  This text, though, made it obvious that he did.  So why hadn’t he stayed?  Why had he left with that hard expression on his face, letting Jim assume that he was never to be seen or heard from again?  Jim knew Magnussen would call it emotional manipulation.  He would claim that John was testing the strings to see how much he could make Jim dance.  But John wasn’t the type to do that.  John was sweet, caring, and considerate.

    With a groan, Jim ran his fingers through his hair before stepping into the lift.  Magnussen always warned him about this, but he never had cause to worry about it happening until now.  He never thought it could happen so acutely either.  How could he even begin to deal with it?  Somehow, he knew he couldn’t, so he decided to defer the conversation.  Perhaps he would know what to say in an hour or two.

_Sorry.  Interview time.  Talk to you later. -JM_

_Why are you sorry? -JW_

    Was it because he had to run to another interview? It seemed clipped, though, which was unusual for Jim. Had he said something wrong? John frowned at his phone. He knew he might not hear from Jim for a while, but he wanted to fix whatever he’d done.

_If you’re sorry about the interview, don’t be. It was sexy. The chills were good chills. And you said you’d protect someone you were interested in or were spending time with, so I thought that might have been me. -JW_

_I mean, at least this time. I’m not assuming how you feel about me or anything. It just came right on the heels of our weekend, so I just thought that you were referring to me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t just think you mean me when you’re talking about relationships. -JW_

    There. That covered all his bases. Or so he hoped. When Jim saw his messages, he would - with any luck - understand. John honestly wasn’t trying to assume that he meant something to Jim or that they were more than whatever they were. He rolled onto his stomach and changed the channel, content to listen to the noise while he relaxed. It kept him from dwelling too much on the situation with Jim.

    Jim forced himself to mute his mobile, knowing that he would want to read whatever John might send him.  And then if he read it, he would be tempted to respond, and that would reveal his lie.  His mobile nonetheless felt heavy in his pocket, ever present no matter what he was doing.

    Once in the vehicle, Jim looked up at Magnussen, who was reading the paper.  “I know what you’re going to say,” he stated.

    “You’re expecting the questions then.”

    “Of course I am.  That’s what happens when you try to defend yourself nowadays,” Jim answered before staring out the window.  “I won’t let him get the better of me, though.”

    Magnussen lowered the paper.  “You shouldn’t have let anyone get the better of you in the first place.  I only let this pass because it’s caused plenty of positive PR for you.  More people are defending you than ever before, and the polls are showing an increased amount of support.  However, this could easily be ruined by the next interview.  You must remain calm, relaxed, and authoritative.  You are going there to talk about your tour, so try to stay on topic as much as possible, would you?”

    “Of course,” Jim said.  “This isn’t my first interview, you know.”

    Humming, Magnussen replied, “Yes, but there’s always a risk of it being your last.”

    Jim felt horror ice his blood at the implication.  “I’ve got it under control.”  That was a lie, and they both knew it.  As always, Jim was terrified about losing his job.  It was the only thing he wanted to do since he was a child, and he worked far too hard to have it all taken away from him.

    “I certainly hope so.”

    With that, Jim ran his fingers through his hair again, tugging at it a bit.  Why did it feel like he was spiralling out of control?  Why was everything turning inside-out and upside-down?  He closed his eyes and tried to breathe.  This tour had been far longer than his previous ones, and it was wearing him thin.  All he ever seemed to do anymore was work, and John provided a release from that.  But now, Jim’s mind was all wrapped up in trying to dissect John.

    “We’re here,” Magnussen stated.  Jim hadn’t even noticed the car stop.  “Remember, keep your cool and keep smiling, alright?”

    “Alright,” Jim murmured before rising to his feet.  Immediately, his mind focused and cleared.  All that mattered was the interview.  Once he got through that, he could worry about John again.

    Around the time the interview was set to start, John muted the telly and turned on his worn radio. Despite his fears about Jim’s reaction to his message, he was still interested in how this new interview would go. When he found the right station, he settled back down, more than a little anxious.

    “This is Randy Rogers on 94.9 BCC Radio Bristol, and I’ve got Moriarty with me in the studio right now.  Hello, Mr Moriarty!” Randy greeted, waving behind his microphone.

    Jim leaned in closer to his microphone and smiled.  “Hello!  Thank you so much for having me on your show today.”

    “No, no, thank you for coming to talk to me.  Now, we have to talk about it since that seems to be the only thing people are doing, but you did quite a number this morning on Cindy Huff!” Randy commented.  “I just have to ask - what was that all about?”

    Taking in a practiced breath, Jim explained, “As a celebrity, I have to deal with far more than the average person.  Many people simply refuse to acknowledge that I am allowed to have a private life, which means that they push for inappropriate details.  I admit that I shouldn’t have snapped at her in such a manner, but it’s difficult sometimes not to, especially when you’re as busy and exhausted as I am from touring.  Tomorrow - in fact - I’m going to be performing in the Trinity Centre, and it’s such an honour to bring music to Bristol in such a beautiful venue.”  He couldn’t help but smile at how beautifully he had changed the topic of conversation.

    Jim’s voice filtered through the speakers, and John sighed happily. It was already going better than he’d hoped, and Jim was excellent at manipulating Rogers. Of course, skill came with experience, and Jim had been dealing with these interviews his whole career. It was certainly a step up from the morning host, though.

    “Of course,” Randy replied.  However, he wasn’t deterred.  “There are some who are claiming you get too defensive with your private life, though.  How do you respond to that?”

    Jim shrugged.  “I would advise them to try living in my shoes for a day.  From the outside, everything looks easy, but it’s really not.  I’ve been harassed and stalked.  I’ve dealt with people staking out my house and hotel just to get a shot of me in the morning.  I’ve had cameras shoved in my face and horrid things screamed at me just for a reaction.  I’ve had my life threatened more than once.  But I bear it all in silence for my fans.  I know everyone says this, but I genuinely have the best fans in the world.  Every time I step out on stage, I want to give them more than their money’s worth.  They’re always so considerate and committed, and I know that I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without them.”

    Shifting uncomfortably, Randy kept a faux smile plastered to his face.  He obviously hadn’t expected Jim to be so calm and collected.  “Of course,” he managed to answer.  “Some of those said fans have noted that you never answered the interviewer’s question.  Girls are fearful that you’re already taken.  So are you?”

    By now, Jim wanted to scream.  He knew that this interview was going to be a difficult one, but he honestly didn’t want to have to answer that question all over again.  Hell, he didn’t even know how to.  But unlike John’s text, he couldn’t just set it aside and figure out a response to it.  Every second of silence that passed drew attention.

    “Let me assure you that the young ladies who enjoy my music shouldn’t be frightened,” Jim answered vaguely.  “Relationship or not, I wouldn’t be giving up my passion for singing and songwriting, and I am already writing music for the next album.  And although my smoldering gaze and cut abs help, my female fans follow me because of my music.  They are all so brilliant and interesting, too.  Honestly, I’m often humbled to know that such intelligent young women enjoy my music.  I’m hoping to let none of them down during tomorrow’s concert.”

    Randy balked at him.  “S-so you are in a relationship?”

    “Am I?” Jim countered.

    “W-well, I just thought… I mean, you said they had nothing to be afraid of.”

    Jim hummed in acknowledgement.  “Yes.  I said that because - no matter what - I will still be doing what I love.  I’m assuming that they are worried about my love life getting in the way of my career, so I wanted to allay those fears.”  With that, Jim fixed Randy with his gaze, daring him to try one more time to get him to answer the question.  “Although, really, I’m surprised these concerns even arose, what with my being on tour.  It’s nearly impossible to maintain a relationship when I don’t stay in any one location for longer than three days.  I’m only in Bristol for the concert tomorrow, and then I have to be off again by the next morning.  Personally, I find that unfortunate, as I had been hoping to sightsee a bit before I left.”

    Obviously, Randy decided to give up.  “I am sorry to hear that as well.  Bristol has many great views to enjoy.”

    John listened with a smile. At least Jim wasn’t brewing up a false relationship with some starlet as John feared he would. After all, it seemed right up Magnussen’s alley to engineer a relationship for the sake of media coverage. For his part, though, Rogers was learning his lesson. They moved on to local attractions, much to John’s relief. He hadn’t said a word either way on his relationship status. Masterful deflection spared John from hearing the truth he feared most - that he and Jim were nothing to each other.

    When the interview was over, Jim all but fled from the studio.  He was thrilled that it was finally over, and he planned to laze about for the rest of the day.  Not only that, but he was sure he managed to please Magnussen with his responses.  Once he stepped outside, he saw his car pull around to pick him up.  He happily hopped in and looked over at Magnussen.  Immediately, he knew something had gone wrong.

    “What’s that look for?” Jim inquired, not sure he even wanted to know.

    Magnussen answered, “Your response.  Why don’t you just say that you’re not in a relationship?  That would be far more appeasing to your fans than for you to keep tiptoeing around the question.”  He fixed Jim with a hard stare, and Jim knew that one false move would earn him a thorough reprimand.

    “You know I enjoy infuriating rude interviewers,” Jim answered vaguely.  “Honestly, they always feel so entitled!  It irritates me to no end.”

    Pressing his lips together, Magnussen leaned forward.  “I don’t think that’s it,” he said.  “I think it’s about that lad back in London.”

    “Why would you think that?” Jim inquired, his heart starting to race.  “It’s fine.  Really.  Besides, we’ve already had this discussion.”

    Magnussen grabbed Jim’s wrist and stared at him.  “He’s no good for you, Jim.  If anyone finds out about you, they’ll sell it for thousands of pounds, and then everything you worked so hard for-”

    “-will be gone.  I know!  I know,” Jim exclaimed before pulling out his mobile.  He stared at the new text messages John had sent.  Even now, he didn’t know what to say, so he decided to change the topic.

_Just got out of the interview.  Did you get to hear it? -JM_

    John’s heart sank a little. He’d fixed things by explaining himself, hadn’t he? Of course, Jim had just been through an ordeal with Rogers and probably wasn’t up for talking about either interview. Still, he had messaged John about this one, so John felt he could at least hold up his end of the conversation.

_You were brilliant. -JW_

_Smiling at the praise, Jim wrote back: I wouldn’t say so myself, but thank you for acknowledging the truth. -JM_

    “Who are you texting?” Magnussen pressed.

    Jim tried not to grimace.  He should have known better.  “No one of importance.”

    “You never use your mobile unless you’re trying to contact me.  Therefore, I would have to say that whoever was on the receiving line of that text must be particularly important.”

    Gripping his mobile harder, Jim snapped, “Who died and made you my father?  I’m 27 years old, for fuck’s sake!  I’ll text whoever I damn well please with or without your permission.”

_You’re always so modest. That’s one of the things I like about you. -JW_

    John giggled and turned off the radio. It was playing some of Jim’s music in a post-interview promotion, but John didn’t want his father to hear it when he came home. While he laid on his bed, he read through his message and hoped Jim could tell he was teasing. He decided to send another text just in case.

     _I mean that in a good way. I’m teasing. -JW_

_How am I supposed to tell that if you don’t end your text with a =P? -JM_

    Jim sent his message, trying desperately not to smile too much.  Magnussen still had his sights set on him, after all.

    “It’s that London boy, isn’t it?” Magnussen stated.

    “John Watson,” Jim corrected before looking up into Magnussen’s eyes.  He knew that Magnussen remembered John’s name but pretended not to just to annoy him.  The only issue was that it worked.

    Pinching the bridge of his nose, Magnussen pressed, “I know your IQ scores, Jim.  I know that you’re a genius, which is why I cannot comprehend how you could be stupid enough to give him your mobile number.”

    “It’s not stupidity,” Jim retorted.  “Just because you think you’re always right doesn’t mean you actually are!”

    Magnussen scowled.  “I am always right.  This boy’s going to be your downfall if you don’t step away from him now.”

    “We’re just texting.  What harm could that do?” Jim pressed.

    “Plenty.”

    There was something comforting about Jim’s teasing. It made John feel rather sure of himself. The joke was a sign that things were alright between them, even if Jim didn’t feel like addressing John’s previous messages. He breathed a sigh of relief as he dragged the pad of his thumb over his screen.

_I figured you were above emoticons, but if that’s what you really want… =P -JW_

    “He’s discreet.  His father doesn’t even know he’s gay, so he’s not about to out me,” Jim reasoned.

    With that Magnussen laughed.  “Oh, good, so we just have to wait for the day when his father reads this kid’s text messages and realises what is going on?  That will look splendid, don’t you think?  ‘Moriarty and his Boytoy’ will be the title if you’re lucky.  If not, it’ll be along the lines of ‘Moriarty, Gay?’ with the subtitle of ‘Sales plummet as the rockstar’s _seventeen_ -year-old lover is revealed.’”

    “Shut up,” Jim snarled.

    Magnussen retorted, “Your bite doesn’t scare me, Jim.  You know I can bite back harder.”

    Seething, Jim reclined back into his seat.  It was true.  Magnussen all but held Jim’s life in his hands.  “Just leave me alone on this one, alright?”

    “Fine.  But I bear no responsibility when you fall from grace five years before your time.”

    Jim swallowed hard when he heard that before finally turning back to his mobile.  John had messaged him several minutes ago, but Jim couldn’t bring himself to feel the light-heartedness he had before.

_That’s more like it!  You going to start cleaning again soon? -JM_

_Probably not. I’m exhausted. I’m amazed a house can get so dirty with only three people living in it. I had already promised to do Harry’s chores, so I had my work cut out for me. I’m just so tired, though. The trash will still be there in the morning, right? I couldn’t be lucky enough for it to just disappear. -JW_

    For a moment, he considered telling Jim about his sister moving out. He didn’t have anyone to discuss it with, after all, and it still weighed on his mind. Jim had done two interviews that day, though, and both were equally taxing. Ultimately, he decided Jim shouldn’t be bothered with it. Why would he even care? He probably didn’t even remember John had a sister.

    Jim frowned at the name.  Beforehand, John had spoken of a sister - the one who gave him the ticket and backstage pass - but of no other sibling.  He figured it would be better to just ask and get it out of the way than to make a fool of himself later.

_Do you have a brother as well as a sister? -JM_

_No. Harry’s short for Harriet. I just have a sister. It was part of the deal for the tickets - I would have to do her chores for a month. -JW_

    He remembered! Somehow, Jim remembered Harriet. Maybe John could talk to him about it after all. If he could remember such minute details about John’s family, it might mean he cared.

_Bit unfair that I offered, though, since she moved out Saturday. It all ended up falling to me regardless. -JW_

    Once again, Jim felt that nagging sensation at the back of his mind.  He merely brushed it aside, not wanting to fret over nothing.  People moved out all the time.  Perhaps she moved in with her boyfriend or girlfriend?  Or maybe she went off to Uni early?  Or she possibly might have just wanted to get out of the house and be on her own?  Jim would have jumped at the chance to move out at sixteen had he had the money.

     _I’m sorry to hear that.  Is she going off to uni or something? -JM_

    Jim knew the timeline didn’t add up, but he didn’t care.  That was harmless enough of a question.

_She moved in with her girlfriend. Lucky. I’m a little hurt she didn’t tell me, but it’s better this way. -JW_

    John sighed and buried his face in his pillow. He was barely scratching the surface of why it hurt so badly. They’d been getting along, growing as close as they’d been when they were younger. Now, John was left to deal with their father alone. He knew he should feel glad that Harry was safe, but a dark part of him was more jealous than relieved. She had escaped the clutches of their alcoholic father, leaving him to sink his claws deeper into John.

    Jim desperately hoped that he would be better at comforting this time than he was before.

_She definitely should have told you, but everyone makes mistakes.  Perhaps you should pop over to her new place soon and stay the night?  After all, it would be a shame if this caused a rift between you two.  You spoke highly of her whenever you were around me, and I know she must have paid a good deal of money for that backstage pass you had. -JM_

_We’ve always been close. I mean, we were all we had when we were growing up. I thought the tickets were just to show that she still cared, but then it turns out it was one last offering before she abandoned me. She’s safe, and I’m stuck here. I’m kind of mad, but I’ll get over it. I might visit her in a week or so, when everything blows over. -JW_

    The nagging returned, and Jim hated it.  It felt as though he was on the cusp of an epiphany only to never reach it.  Rereading John’s text, he tried to make sense of it.  He felt trapped, too, back at home.  His father suffocated him every chance he had, as he was positive that Jim was never going to make it.  John - being on the edge of freedom - was probably getting a bit antsy as well.

_I understand.  You’re going to be off to uni before you know it, though!  And that’ll be loads of fun even if you are a medical student. -JM_

    Or, at least, that’s what Jim had heard.  Starting university as the age of fourteen, he wasn’t necessarily sure if it was true.  He supposed that being able to legally drink probably helped with the ‘fun’ factor, though.  Back then, he had been too on the straight-and-narrow to drink illegally.

Unfortunately, Jim didn’t seem to understand. This wasn’t typical teenage ennui. John genuinely feared for his life. The last thing he wanted to do was make Jim’s tour worse, so he bit back the urge to reply with sarcasm.

_I’m sure it will be. -JW_

* * *

 

    Although Jim had done plenty of tours, he had never experienced one quite like this.  After meeting John Watson, the days seemed to both slow and surge with the time.  One moment, Jim was texting John, and the minutes ticked by like seconds.  The next, he had to go do something, usually an interview, and minutes dragged.  To be perfectly honest, Jim wasn’t sure what to make of the situation.  It seemed that he sprang to life whenever he and John had the time to talk.

    Just one week.  They had known one another for just one week, and Jim knew that he was falling hard.  He never desired “good morning” or “sleep well” texts until John.  He never kept his mobile glued to his side until John.  Every time John texted, Jim’s ears would perk with the sound of his text tone.  Eventually, he had to give John his own tone, because when Magnussen sent him something, he would think it was John just to get irrationally excited then utterly irritated.

    And that was the issue, he supposed.  He was getting irrationally excited over nothing.  After all, it wasn’t as if they spoke about anything substantial.  Neither of them discussed religion or politics nor did they talk about their childhoods.  But for Jim, it was enough to hear John complain about the weather for the third time in a row or about how filthy the living room had gotten in just a day.  It kept their conversation going, and Jim didn’t feel nearly as lonely.

    In fact, he had yet to sleep with another groupie.  Most nights, he was presented with the opportunity, but he never acted upon it.  Usually, he didn’t give anyone a second glance.  He would never confess to it, but he felt like he would be cheating on John if he did.  John might not realise it - and if he didn’t, it was for the better - but he had a hold over Jim.  He was more than willing to do anything and everything for John.  In fact, he was already thinking about sending John a new mobile phone with a plan that Jim would pay for so that they could have longer conversations at night.  He wanted to be able to repeat their sleeping with their phones on.  However, they couldn’t do that until John’s father didn’t pay for the bill anymore.  But Jim didn’t dare inquire about it.  He wasn’t sure how John would react.  That was the beauty and horror of John - Jim never knew how he would react.

    In the week following their meeting, John texted Jim every day. Though it had been a rocky start, their messages were quickly losing their fatalistic tone. Even if John had nothing in particular to talk about, Jim was quick to reply. After their first evening, they never stayed up late with a connected call again, and John dreaded the day when his father discovered the bill. But with every day that passed, his bruises faded, and he drew closer to the end of his toil. After all, his father was unlikely to hold the same disposition for extended periods of time.

    By the end of the week, the house was spotless. No beer cans littered the floor, no blood stained the carpet, no cobwebs gathered in the weathered corners. The house looked better than it had in years. After dinner, his mother would whisper praises - a “thank you” or a “good job” - the moment Richard was out of earshot. After the argument of the first evening home, everything seemed to be going smoothly.

    Jim lounged about in his suite, flipping through the channels on the telly.  After a while, he landed on BBC News and hovered there for a bit, catching up on the latest.  As always, everything was horrible and bound to only get worse.  Instinctively, he reached down and grabbed his phone.  It seemed like not an hour passed anymore without him contacting John in some way, shape, or form.

_It astounds me just how centred the world is around money. -JM_

    When his his phone buzzed, John had been lightly dozing on his mattress. Jim’s alert, however, woke him up immediately. He smiled as he read the message. It never failed to amaze him just how brilliant Jim was. Money was a topic they hadn’t covered before, and John wasn’t really an economics guru, but he felt he could make a workable conversation out of it.

_Well, maybe one day we can go back to barter system. -JW_

    Jim felt his mobile buzz almost immediately.  Swiftly, he reached down and pulled up the message.  He chuckled.

_That would bring chaos to this world.  All those people scrambling to learn a craft.  My mum would lecture me yet again about not being able to knit.  Because, you know, knitted items would suddenly come in high demand.  Someone has to make your jumpers, after all. -JM_

    Pausing for a moment, Jim wondered if he should bring it up.  He never mentioned this to anyone before, but if there was anyone he could trust, it was John.  After taking a deep breath, he decided to send another text.

     _Sometimes, I feel like I’ve got a price tag stuck to me.  I feel like I’m just a monetary sticker to the record company.  My value can be measured in the amount of money my merchandise is worth, my records, my cameos, my interviews, and my tickets. -JM_

   It was impossible to shake the image of Jim fumbling with knitting needles from his head. Just picturing him scowling in a large armchair, knitting a jumper like his grandmother used to was almost too much to handle. John giggled as he tried to think up a clever reply. While he pondered, a new message popped up. The smile faded slowly as John absorbed Jim’s words.

_Your value goes far beyond whatever your sales are. God, Jim, you’re fucking brilliant. Even without the fame, I’d think so. Your manager and your label company might be gold-digging bastards wringing you dry, but they’re arseholes. They shouldn’t matter. The people who care about you care about /you/. Not how comfortable the CEO of your label is thanks to you. -JW_

    Jim read and reread the message.  What people?  All he had was John, but he supposed that didn’t matter. The words still pulled him out of a dark place.  Honestly, he wondered how he even managed to get on before John.  And how would he get on afterwards?  Frowning, he shoved such thoughts aside.

     _You’re right, as per usual.  If you could stop using that logical logic on me, though, that would be great. -insert stupid emoticon here because I sure as Hell will never text another one- -JM_

    John found comfort in knowing Jim approved of his message. After all, it was true. He wasn’t the first star to feel like all that mattered was his earnings, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last one used by a greedy label. Part of John wished he could be there to show Jim just how highly he thought of him and how much he mattered to John. Of course, if he was there to do so, he doubt he could stay motivational for long. He’d be too busy ripping his own clothes off.

_Well, someone has to. Might as well be me since I’m not trying to boost your sales to afford a new yacht. -JW_

    Laughing, Jim rolled onto his stomach before changing the channel.  What did he need to watch the news for anyway?  He was in far too good a mood now to let himself be dragged down by the worsening statistics.  As soon as he found a game show to watch, he picked his mobile up again.

_We both know the private helicopter comes first.  Private helicopter THEN yacht. -JM_

    John giggled again as he saved Jim’s message. It was absolutely perfect. Seeing him so happy was refreshing. Some nights, he seemed almost morose when they texted. Higher spirits were certainly preferable.

_Oh, that’s right. Oops. And after the yacht, maybe a nice small island where I can park them both. -JW_

    Jim grinned at the reply.  God, how desperately he wished for John to be there with him at that moment.  They could have been curled up on the bed together, watching Chaser.  John would be trying to guess the answers while Jim pretended not to know every single one.  Afterwards, they would curl up together and laugh the night away.  Smiling, Jim closed his eyes for a second.  Maybe one day he would have that.  He sure hoped so.  Quickly, he took up his phone and wrote his response.

     _Perhaps, but only after one of us learns how to FLY the private helicopter.  Do you know how to fly a helicopter?  Because I sure don’t. -JM_

_We could always learn together. I could sit on you lap and press buttons while you try to keep us from crashing. -JW_

    Reading it over, John didn’t find the message too morbid. He hoped Jim wouldn’t either. At the very least, the flirting would help cushion the rather dark end of his sentence. God, he missed him. Jim was funny outside of his star-studded persona, as well as smart and kind. Sure, his moods could swing with a faint breeze, but it wasn’t so bad. As he lay on his bed and waited for Jim’s reply, John closed his eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like to have him there.

    Jim barked out a laugh upon reading it.

_You being on my lap would be the /cause/ of our crash. -JM_

_Certainly not on purpose, although it’d be my own fault for writhing around and distracting you. -JW_

    Talking to Jim like that was easy. With light banter like this, John could pretend that there was a chance for them in the future. No matter how deeply it embarrassed him, he still held out hope for one more visit. Recording in London, Jim had said. And if that managed to go through, John could spend at least a few more hours with him. Until then, though, this was wonderful.

    Jim got the message and smiled at it.  After all of their time together, Jim was sure that he could shower him in all the praise and gifts possible, and John still wouldn’t be any different.  He liked that fact.  He needed someone he could rely on to be themselves in front of him.  Even so, he was now uncertain about what to talk about now.  He waited a minute or two, hoping John might strike up a new conversation, before writing: _Did you forget your line? -JM_

_No, just got distracted. Thinking of being that close to you tends to have that effect on me. -JW_

    It was true. John’s eyes had, in fact, remained closed, and he had lost track of time imagining Jim was back beside him in a variety of manners: offering him something sinfully sweet, draping an arm over his stomach, even humming along to a new song he was working on. And, of course, sitting just beneath him, kissing along the curve of John’s slender throat. That particular image had been hard to shake.

_Didn’t mean to leave you waiting, though. How’s the tour? -JW_

    Jim’s heart fluttered when he read John’s first message.  How could it not, though?  He liked the thought of John actively thinking about him.  In all honesty, it gave him hope for the future.  But words like “perhaps” and “someday” were never supposed to be in Jim’s vocabulary.  He couldn’t focus on the improbable when so many responsibilities settled on him in the present.

_Oh, you know - same old, same old.  The only differences between this tour and the previous ones is that the venues are bigger, the prices are higher, and I got to meet you. -JM_

_All of that sounds like an improvement. Maybe the next one will be even better. Fans treating you okay? -JW_

Though he’d never breathe a word of it aloud, John hoped the fans weren’t treating him too okay. After all, Jim was- No. Jim wasn’t his. No matter how hard he wished, it wouldn’t happen.

_No different than usual.  Most are respectful, some get a bit too grabby, and others are just… crazy. -JM_

    Jim paused a moment, once again longing for John to be there so he could relay to him all of the absolutely ridiculous experiences.  However, it was probably for the better that he wasn’t.  Jim didn’t want to drive him away with his complaints.

_In just a few weeks, though, I’ll be done with this tour, and they’ll be signing me up for another as soon as I get a new album or two out. -JM_

    Something about his VIP fans being grabby made John snarl down at the screen. They didn’t deserve to touch him and certainly not without his expressed consent. If only John could be there to swat them away.

_I’m not overly fond of grabby fans. I guess that makes me a bit of a hypocrite. Still, recording will be good for you. Might bring you back around my way. -JW_

    Jim hoped that it would.  Magnussen was still working out the logistics of it, but Jim knew that he had no interest in allowing Jim to return to London.  If nothing else, Magnussen was as sharp as a whip, and he knew that it was due to John Watson.  Jim, however, was sharper, and he downplayed just how often they texted in order to make it seem that the interest was waning.

_How does that make you a hypocrite?  You didn’t grab my arse while we were backstage. You waited until we were respectfully in my room and buck arse naked first. -JM_

    John giggled at the memory. The nights in the hotel were moments he knew he’d treasure as long as he lived. Jim’s soft lips, the feel of his hands sliding over his skin, the quiet snores… Staying with him had been absolute heaven. Now, John hated waking up to an empty bed and a silent room. It was so lonely.

_Damn right I did. Like a proper gentleman. Also, I asked first. Sort of. You technically started it.  -JW_

    Jim was in stitches when he read the reply.  As his entire body vibrated with mirth, he curled up on his side.  Before long, he was gasping in air around the laughs.  God, it had been ages since he laughed that hard, and John didn’t even have to be in the room for it.  Between the tears, he managed to type out a response.

_Like a proper gentleman?  I can’t breathe! -JM_

    Grinning widely, John didn’t take long to think of a witty reply.

_Is that good or bad? Not choking on something expensive and delicious, are you? I’d hate to be an accessory to murder tonight. Maybe tomorrow… -JW_

    This merely caused Jim to laugh harder.  Before long, his laughs were entirely silent.  Tears streamed down his face.  It took several minutes before he could calm down enough to even respond.

_I’ll try to stave off death for another night then.  Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you, after all.  -JM_

_I’m so lucky you’re so considerate. Thank you, Jim, for waiting until I’m free. -JW_

    He’d never met anyone quite as fun to talk to as Jim. Not that John meant any offense toward his friends, but Jim went along with the jokes. In all their interactions, Jim encouraged him. And, of course, he had the greatest laugh John ever heard.

    Jim heard a knock on his door and sighed.  It was already time for him to prepare for the concert, and he couldn’t help but note that talking to John was a mixture of a blessing and a curse.  Slowly, he rose to his feet before sending John one last text.

_My ride to the concert hall here.  Will I be able to talk to you later? -JM_

_I don’t see why not. Knock them dead, have a great show, and I’ll be here when you’re finished. -JW_

    However, things never stayed perfect in John’s life. Jim still needed to perform, and John would ultimately end up unable to say goodnight until it was over. Still, it was better than nothing. He settled back against the pillows and set his phone on the endtable. If Jim texted, he would easily hear it. With that done, John closed his eyes and turned off his lamp.

    Halfway through a rather obscene dream involving Jim, a can of whipped cream, and hotel sheets, John woke to the sound of someone rifling through his possessions. He reached out and turned on the lamp, half-expecting to see Harry looking for some CD she might have loaned him. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of his father holding up a pair of his jeans with a fierce scowl.

    “Where the fuck is it, John?”

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where’s what?”

    Richard shoved two stapled pieces of paper in John’s direction. Their mobile company’s logo was stamped across the top in large, clear letters. John’s heart sank with the realisation that the bill had finally arrived. Far sooner than John had expected, his father had learned of the late-night long distance call. “Your mobile, John. Give it to me.”

    Instinctively, John grabbed it and pulled it close. Sure, he hadn’t sent Jim anything too filthy, but his father would never let many of those texts go unpunished. Although he was sentimentally attached to every conversation they ever had, there was a chance his father would find out exactly with whom John was communicating. Quickly, he bought himself time by asking, “Why do you want my mobile? I’ve been behaving. I’ve waited on you hand and foot. Can’t I have this one luxury? Please?” It only took a few seconds for John to delete the whole inbox and outbox folders as his father advanced. He mourned the loss, but nothing else could be done.

    “A five hour fucking call, John? At midnight? Who the fuck were you talking to that late for that long?”

    “A friend!” John exclaimed. “After what you did to me, is it so wrong that I needed to talk to someone?”

    “On my pay? Yeah, it is. Give me the Goddamn phone, John. Trust me when I say you don’t want me pry it from your fucking hands.”

    Experience had taught John that obeying his tyrannical, alcoholic father was often easier than defending himself or arguing. Because of his outburst almost a week earlier, he wasn’t ready to fight again. He’d been put right back “in his place,” as his father put it, and he wasn’t ready to relinquish the steady peace they’d found.

    “Alright. Here.” John handed it over to him, watching as he walked away with his only connection to Jim. All he could do was hope it would be returned to him before Jim had a chance to forget about him entirely.

    Jim was exhausted by the end of the night.  His concert took longer than he expected, and his mobile phone died before he finished.  As soon as he was back in his hotel room, he shoved his phone into its charger before eagerly typing in a message.

_Tonight was absolutely amazing!  Even better than Bristol!  Not better than London, though. -JM_

    As always, Jim waited eagerly for a response.  The minutes ticked by slowly, and his smile began to drop.  John always answered him as soon as possible, no matter the time.  It was late enough at night that he shouldn’t be doing anything.  Heart sinking, Jim set his phone down and closed his eyes.  His ears strained to hear John’s text tone play, but there was nothing.  After twenty agonising minutes passed, Jim picked up his mobile again.

_John? -JM_

    Perhaps he was asleep.  After all, it was late, and John had been working hard on cleaning the house for the past week.  It could be that he just became overly tired and accidentally fell asleep.  Swallowing hard, Jim put his mobile down.  John would text him in the morning after he woke up.  Jim tried to convince himself that he was sure of that fact.  Even so, he couldn’t get the sinking sensation lodged in his gut.  Something was wrong, but he just couldn’t figure out what.  Or could it be that he didn’t want to?  Jim closed his eyes, knowing the silence would keep him awake.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to contact John, Jim begins to worry. John swallows his pride. A confession is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for every comment, every review, every read, every share, and every kudos! It means the world to us!

    Three days.  If Jim hadn’t been in the middle of a tour, he would have located John and demanded to see him.  After all, there was no reason that John couldn’t have texted or called him at some point in the last three days.  And by that, he meant that Jim didn’t _know_ any good reason, which meant there was a possibility something horrible befell him.  Fear and guilt gnawed at his stomach, keeping him in an eternal state of queasiness.  With his stomach in knots, he could barely eat, and it was starting to show enough that even Magnussen commented on it.

    His weight was hardly the issue, though.  What could have happened to John?  What possibly could have kept him from texting for three long, agonising days?  Their last conversation ended on a happy note.  John even said that there wasn’t any reason they couldn’t talk later.  Jim had memorised all the messages by now, having scoured them for any hints.

    [Sent 4 Days Ago] _My ride to the concert hall here.  Will I be able to talk to you later? -JM_

[Sent 4 Days Ago] _I don’t see why not. Knock them dead, have a great show, and I’ll be here when you’re finished. -JW_

    [Sent 4 Days Ago] _Tonight was absolutely amazing!  Even better than Bristol!  Not better than London, though. -JM_

    [Sent 4 Days Ago] _John? -JM_

    [Sent 3 Days Ago] _Good morning.  I take it you’re sleeping in late today.  Text me when you wake up. -JM_

    [Sent 3 Days Ago] _I’m off to bed.  Please text when you get the chance. -JM_

    [Sent 2 Days Ago] _I have a busy schedule today, so if I don’t answer, that’s why. -JM_

[Sent 2 Days Ago] _But don’t let that stop you from texting me! -JM_

[Sent Yesterday] _Johnny, at least let me know that you’re alright. -JM_

    Despite how much he dwelled on the situation, he sent messages out sparingly.  He didn’t want to seem overbearing, and he couldn’t help but worry that maybe Magnussen was right.  Maybe John was gauging his power over Jim.  Although it was hard to believe, Jim couldn’t just shove the thought entirely aside.  As a celebrity, he possessed a great fortune that many would love to get their hands on.  But John? He just wasn’t the sort.

    Which led him to another thought: Did John die?  It occurred to Jim in the middle of the second night, and his mind had whirled in fear and grief until he reasoned that the probability of John’s death was slim to none.  As the hours ticked on, he became more and more terrified that that wanton thought might actually be true.  However, he couldn’t bring himself to look up obituaries.  What if John’s name was actually there?  What if he had genuinely passed away?  Oh, how Jim would mourn.

    He couldn't dwell on it at that moment.  After, all, he was about to go on stage in Birmingham, and these fans deserved just as much attention as anyone else.  Sucking in a deep breath, he calmed himself down and cleared his mind entirely.  John could wait.  They could not.

* * *

     Time without his phone was absolutely grueling. Not a day passed without John thinking about texting Jim. The first night, John laid in bed and sobbed in the darkness. Jim had become the one thing in his life that he could look forward to. Harry was gone, and he was still grounded. Without his friends or Jim, he was utterly alone. John wanted to text Jim and tell him everything. The urge to spill his heart out at his feet almost overwhelmed him. John wanted to be honest with him about the Hell he lived in: the beatings, the slurs, years of abuse and suffering. He wanted to beg him to come back, to pull him out of his house, and drop him somewhere - _anywhere_ \- else. He wanted to tell Jim that he missed him so much that he felt nauseous, that he wanted to sleep curled up in his jumper every night, that he could still feel the beat of his heart when he closed his eyes.

    But he couldn't. His mobile was firmly in his father’s hands, and even if John managed to secure it for but a second, he would know. As much as he longed to speak to Jim, he couldn’t take the risk. Thus, the wait continued. John was going out of his mind by the third day. He wouldn't raise his head or look his family in the eyes. His resolve was fading with every ticking second. Jim was all he could think about. Where his next show was, when he'd take the stage, who'd replace John...

    Finally, John broke down. He swallowed his pride and went to his father, going over every possible scenario in his head. Offering to pay for the excess charges seemed like the easiest route to take. John’s father was far more likely to be accommodating if he offered his own money. “Dad?” His voice was quiet as he stepped into the living room.

    A grunt was his only response.

    “If I pay off the phone bill, could I have my mobile back?”

    Silence stretched between them as his father considered his offer. There were, in theory, no drawbacks in letting John pay, and they were both well aware of it. “Is it going to happen again?”

    “No, sir. I swear it won’t.”

    Richard opened a drawer in the end table and tossed it to him.  “It better fucking not. Next time, I’m smashing the bloody thing.”

    John hurried out of the room, scrolling through his inbox and reading Jim’s messages. There weren’t many, but enough to express Jim’s concern. John hadn’t texted him back - _couldn’t_ after his phone was confiscated - and Jim had noticed.

     _I’m fine. My father got the bill and took my mobile away for a few days. I’m alright, though. Mad as hell but alright. -JW_

    Just as Jim was about to head to the stage, he heard John’s special text tone.  For a moment, he disregarded it.  He had hallucinated the sound more than once over the last three days.  When his phone lit up on his vanity, though, he scrambled to pick it up.  John was _alive_.  He took a moment to sit down and breathe, so relieved by this information that his knees threatened to buckle.

     _You scared the ever living shit out of me, John Watson. -JM_

     _I’m so sorry, Jim. I was asleep when my dad came in and took my phone, and I only just got it back. I had no other way to get ahold of you. Please, don’t be mad. I’m so sorry. -JW_

    He was terrified that Jim would be furious with him. Would he bother continuing to speak with him? Or would he tell John that he had been replaced and to sod off? As John sank down on his mattress, he felt a rush of fear dig its claws into his heart. Losing Jim would crush him.

_I’m not mad, John.  Christ, I am not mad.  I’m just so relieved.  I didn’t know what to think when you just vanished like that. -JM_

Jim didn’t dare comment about how much it affected him.  After all, John didn’t need the added guilt of knowing that Jim tossed and turned at night and could barely stomach a few mouthfuls of food at one time.  He was alright, and that was what mattered.

    “Jim!” Magnussen snapped, having found him.  “You were due onstage two minutes ago!  Get out there!”

    At that moment, Jim decided to do something he swore he never would: he placed the phone on vibrate and shoved it into his back pocket before heading out onto the stage to greet his Birmingham fans.

    When John's phone chimed, he couldn't help but smile. It was such a relief to hear that Jim wasn’t angry with him. He typed by rote as his eyes filled with tears.

_It won’t happen again. I’ve offered to pay him back for the phone charge, so it’s all taken care of. Just need a quick job that won’t cut into my class time. -JW_

    Jim felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he swallowed hard.  He felt like a junkie in need of a fix.  After going so long without any contact, he couldn’t just ignore the messages now.  What if John’s father changed his mind and took his mobile away again? Suddenly, a clever scheme came to mind, and he beamed.  "How about I do something I've never done before?" he inquired before pulling out his mobile.  "I'm going to ask that they turn on the lights so I can take a couple photos of you guys and post them on Twitter.  How does that sound?"

    The crowd screamed in excitement.  Jim knew the technicians would be scrambling to get the main lights on, thus buying him some extra time.  Reading the text, he frowned.  John was already swamped with school and keeping up with his household chores.  There was no way that he could get a job without it affecting his grades.  Pausing a moment, Jim debated on what he should do.  The last time he offered money, John had taken it as an insult.  He didn’t want to cause a rift between them so soon, but he couldn’t let the offer go unspoken.  Sucking in a deep breath, he made his decision.

     _Let me pay for it.  It’s my fault it happened in the first place, and I’ve got more than enough money to cover whatever charges there might be. -JM_

    Though he hated the idea of taking Jim’s money, it would take a lot of pressure off John. He hesitated, fingers hovering over the keypad. Jim had plenty of people chasing after him for his wallet, and John didn’t want to be seen like that. He _also_ didn’t want Jim to pay him off like in the hotel.  Then again, if he lost his mobile once more...

     _If I let you, will you promise not to think less of me? -JW_

    Suddenly, the lights turned on.  He managed to hide a frown before turning on his camera and taking several photos.  Without missing a beat, he selected one at random and tweeted it.  As soon as it posted, he flipped over to his messages.  He was relieved to see that John was open to the possibility of Jim taking care of him.  “Make sure that you all favourite and retweet it so your friends can be jealous!” he exclaimed as he quickly ticked away his message.

     _No, of course not.  Besides, it is technically my fault your bill was so steep in the first place.  Just give me the total amount for the bill, and I’ll forward the money to your bank account.  Sound good? -JM_

_Also, I’ve just started my concert tonight.  Shhh, no one knows I’m texting you.  -JM_

    Jim made it sound so easy. One deposit and his father wouldn’t have a reason to confiscate his mobile. There’d be no more worry about losing contact with Jim - unless, of course, Jim himself cut it off willingly - and he could text him in peace. Jim would do that just for him, too.

     _You won’t think less of me for accepting, will you? And God, go do your concert. Just text me afterwards. I’ve missed you so fucking much. -JW_

    The lights shut back down just as he got the next text.  In a flash, he read the message.  Honestly, he felt flattered by the fact that John was so worried about doing something wrong.  He was also a bit surprised.  He obviously didn’t have an issue with it or he wouldn’t have suggested it.  Perhaps John knew that and was just pressing to be polite.  As he walked back towards the microphone, he typed his response.

     _No, I won’t.  Okay, I will.  Missed you, too.  Don’t disappear again. -JM_

As soon as it was sent, he tucked his mobile into his back pocket and started the first set.

_Wouldn’t dream of it. -JW_

    There was something reassuring about Jim’s desire to keep in contact, even after a few days. He found it impossible to be worried about losing him when he was so relieved. Jim had _missed him._ John Watson, missed not only by _someone,_ but by his favourite person in the entire world. _Sorry, Harry,_ he thought with a chuckle. John loved his sister, but Jim was different. John cared for him in a way he hadn’t felt toward anyone else.

    Although Jim usually had fun whilst on stage, sometimes time crawled.  Tonight was the worst.  His mobile felt like a brick in his pocket.  Every time he danced, moved, stepped, _breathed_ , he could feel it growing heavier.  John might not be there by the time he could reply.  That’s what terrified him the most.  Suddenly, the potential of John disappearing again existed.  They were both at the mercy of his father, and Jim swore that he wouldn’t give Mr Watson another reason to take John’s phone away.  As soon as the first half finished, he pulled out his mobile while taking a swig of water.

    “How come no one’s been retweeting and favouriting my picture?” he teased, not actually paying attention to Twitter at all.

    The crowd laughed in response, buying it nonetheless.

     _Halfway through.  It’s taking an eternity tonight! -JM_

    John hadn’t expected another reply until the concert ended. From what he’d experienced, Jim usually gave his all for his performances. Even when left damp and exhausted, he only seemed to care that the crowd was getting their money’s worth.  Therefore, he was surprised when his phone chimed with Jim’s special tone. He picked it up and read the message over and over. Though he didn’t want to read too deeply into the comment, he wondered if Jim was eager for his set to be over. If he was, there was a chance he wanted to spend more time talking with John. The thought brought a warm smile to his lips.

     _Got a hot date you don’t want to be late for? -JW_

    “You all have been absolutely lovely.  I have to say that this has been the warmest welcome I’ve ever received in Birmingham,” Jim stated, causing the crowd to cheer in reply.  Suddenly, his phone vibrated, and he quickly opened the text before taking another drink.  “I see some of you are finally starting to retweet my photo.  Took you long enough!” he jested, secretly reading the text.

    Jim knew exactly what John was trying to do.  After leaving him alone for three days to worry about him, now he was looking to tease out the precise meaning of his previous message.  Well, Jim was far too sharp to give him the satisfaction.  John would have to ponder over it himself.

     _Actually, I do.  A foursome.  Me, blanket, mattress, and pillow. -JM_

    There was no use prolonging this any longer, so he rose to his feet.  Finishing off the last of his water, he cleared his throat and brought the microphone back up to his lips.  “Are you ready for the grand finale?” he inquired, tucking his phone away.

_Oh? I didn’t know you were so adventurous. -JW_

    As soon as the message sent, John curled up beneath the blanket with his phone clasped tightly in his hands. Waiting wouldn’t be too difficult for him, given how long he’d been without contacting Jim to begin with. _At least I got to talk to him a little,_ John thought as he slipped into a doze.

    His dreams were nothing more than short flashes of imagery, though all related to Jim in some way. John alone in a venue, staring up at an empty stage, flashed to Jim’s leather vest hanging haphazardly off a headboard. The scene shifted to Jim’s throat bared as he tossed his head back in ecstasy before fading to a dark London night where they were linked arm-in-arm as they strolled down the pavement.

    Jim got to the last song, and it was only after he started singing that he remembered why he didn’t bring his mobile on stage.  The water effect was everyone’s favourite part, so he needed to do it, but he didn’t know where to put his mobile in order to ensure that it wouldn’t get damaged.  Instantly, his mind began to whirl with possibilities and situations.  At the last minute, he placed his mobile on the ground before sliding it backstage.  He then proudly stepped forward and allowed the water to rain down on him.

    As usual, the crowd went mental.  Fans were screaming his name, applause thundered in his ears, and he could feel life course through his veins again.  How had he forgotten the wonderful surge of adrenaline after successfully finishing a concert?  He took a bow and headed towards his mobile only to find it gone.

    “Where?” he gasped out, searching for it.

    “Looking for this?”

    Turning on his heels, Jim found Magnussen flipping his phone carefully.  “Give it back,” he growled.

    “I was wondering why on Earth you would bring it out there.  You’re known for plenty of things, Jim, but inconsideration towards your _paying_ fans is not one of them.  Therefore, whoever was texting you must be pretty special.  And who do I find other than-?”  With that, he turned Jim’s mobile around to reveal his texts with John.  “You’re pathetic.”

    Flushing with anger, Jim snarled, “I am not.”

    “He doesn’t talk to you for three days, and you nearly come undone.  You could neither eat nor sleep.  Honestly, I thought that you were trying to hide a sudden medical issue and was actually preparing to cancel the rest of the tour!  And now I know that was all due to this.  He’s just a _fanboy_ , Jim.  There’s nothing special about him, and yet you’re letting him become a pressure point!”

    “You’re making mountains out of molehills,” Jim lied before snatching his phone back.  “And I’m 27 years old.  I’ll do whatever I damn well please!”

    Magnussen straightened when he heard that, his eyes piercing.  Despite himself, Jim averted his gaze.  “Jim, I am your manager, and I only want what’s best for you.”  Jim scoffed at that.  “And I’m telling you now that this boy is poison for your career.  If you don’t stop whatever this is now, you’re going to suffer more consequences than you ever imagined possible.”

    “Is that a threat?”

    “No, it’s a fact,” Magnussen snapped.  “I’ve been in this industry much longer than you, and I know the signs of an early decline.  Get rid of him, Jim, or your career is over.”  With that, he turned on his heels and left.

    Jim ran his fingers through his wet hair, reeling from the conversation.  He knew he would have to autograph soon, but he felt uneasy.  Knowing his fans, they wouldn’t care if he was wet or not.  For a moment, he stared down at his phone.  Poison?  John?  Jim wanted to think it wasn’t so, but he couldn’t deny some truth in Magnussen’s words.  He was pathetically in love with John Watson.  There was no doubt about it now.

    _Autographs still.  Then foursome. -JM_

    When the tone sounded, alerting John that the concert was over, he rubbed his eyes and opened the message. _Autographs_ … Autographs worried him. After all, Jim had discovered _him_ in the fan line. What was stopping him from finding another lithe young man tonight? Everyone that paid for the backstage passes was dedicated enough. It wouldn’t take much to sway them.

    He swallowed his worries and gave his head a small shake. Worrying about something like was stupid. It’d happen someday, but it was unlikely it would be tonight _._ Jim had been too worried about him to pick someone up - or so John hoped.

     _Ooh, don’t tell the fans! They’ll be jealous. -JW_

_I don’t plan to. -JM_

Jim stood and let the queue begin to flow.  Signing always seemed to take the longest, but this was the smallest group yet.  Since he couldn’t pocket his phone due to his wet clothes, he had to awkwardly fumble about with it for a while until one of the employees offered to hold it for him.  He finally got to the last signature and picture with a lovely young lady.  After they finished with the pictures, he pulled away only for her to not leave.

    “So - um - I was wondering if you were staying anywhere near here?”

    Retrieving his phone from the employee, Jim felt his eyes widen with surprise.  Little did he know, he accidentally hit John’s number, and his mobile began to ring him.

    Music filled the bedroom, and John answered the call with a smile. He hadn’t been expecting to hear from him so soon and certainly not in person.

    “Isn’t this what got me in trouble in-”

_“Yeah, I am.  I always stay near the concert hall.”_

John’s grin disappeared entirely. Whoever Jim was talking to, he hadn’t seemed to notice John on the line. His breath stilled, and he pressed his ear against the plastic, straining to listen. Some fan was clearly trying to pick him up. John knew it shouldn’t surprise him, given Jim’s popularity and sexual appeal, but it still hurt. He had so many options - why would he stay with John? It wasn’t as if John could join him. There was no reason for them to be exclusive. As he’d told himself time and time again, Jim wasn’t _his._ Jim was his own man, who could do whatever he damn well pleased - including gorgeous groupies.  Even so, John silently pleaded, _Please, no. Don’t do this to me, Jim. Not tonight…_

    “Well, I was just thinking, maybe I could escort you back?” she inquired.

    Laughing, Jim responded, “Thank you, but I think not.  I already have a date with my bed.”

    She was obviously taken aback.  “You could still be on time for that date.  I wouldn’t keep you from it.  In fact, it sounds like a perfect location for a date to me.”

    Jim stared at her for a long moment.  If he did this, he would take that step away from John.  That’s what he needed to do, right?  At least, that was what Magnussen said.  But he couldn’t even picture kissing her without thinking about John.  That would be the ultimate betrayal, especially after they just got back in contact.  Tonight, he had already promised to text him, and Jim Moriarty always kept his promises.  His step backwards would have to come at another time when both of them weren’t emotionally raw.  “I am flattered, but I’m afraid that I must decline.”

    Jaw dropping, she fixed him with a pointed stare.  “You’re turning me down?  What are you?  Gay?”

    “No,” Jim answered her honestly.  “I’m not gay.  I’m just not interested.  Have a lovely evening.”

    John let out a slow breath and closed his eyes. That had been an uncomfortably close call. But what about the next signing? Or the one after that? How long could Jim hold out? How long until he decided waiting on John wasn’t worth it? Magnussen was probably already urging him away from John. It was only a matter of time before he lost him altogether. Though he wanted to keep listening, John ended the call.

     _She sounded cute. Maybe you should have said yes. -JW_

    Admittedly, he was bitter, and he knew he shouldn’t take it out on Jim. After all, he’d known from the beginning that they couldn’t be together. Not properly, at least. It was impossible, what with John’s dreams of becoming a doctor and Jim’s dreams of keeping his musical career alive. Still, it hurt.

    Jim felt his phone buzz.  Opening the message, he felt his eyes widen in shock.  How could John have known?  The possibilities all rushed to his mind at once, and he located the most logical one.  Quickly, he flipped over to his call log and found the outgoing call.  His heart sank.  John must have heard everything, but - given his encouragement - was he trying to hint that he didn’t care?  Was Jim merely holding onto a fantasy that had long since passed?  As he headed back to his changing room, he let out a long sigh.  Perhaps John wanted him to move on.  Perhaps Jim was old news now.  Perhaps those three days apart were just a warning for what was about to come.  His eyes felt warm.

     _Do you really think that? -JM_

    He didn’t make it easy. John was head-over-heels for Jim, but he couldn’t exactly tell him that, could he? Jim would likely scoff and think he was being childish, and John might lose him forever. Still, if he held onto it forever, nothing might come of it. The worse that could happen would be Jim leaving, and he barely managed to survive three days without him. He weighed the options for a few minutes before finally tapping out his reply.

     _No, I don’t think that. It’d destroy me, honestly._ _I don’t want you to take any of them back with you. I know I’ve got no right to say that, but I hate even the thought of it._ _-JW_

    Jim was at a fork in the road, and he needed to choose a direction.  Either he cut it off with John here and now, picked up some fan, and fucked him or her until the sun rose in order to forget what he lost _or_ he chose John and all of the consequences that followed.  It didn’t even take him a second to decide.  By now, John was far too precious to let go.

_I’m glad to hear that_ _.  Because if you had_ _meant it_ _,_ _I would have been destroyed.  And trust me when I say I have no plan to bring anyone back with me._ _-JM_

Tears splashed down upon his screen as he read Jim’s message. It was better than he could have hoped for. He mattered. Somehow, against all odds, he mattered to Jim, and Jim wasn’t interested in replacing him with one of the other fans.

     _You mean so much to me, Jim._ _I don’t think there’s enough words for me to express it._ _-JW_

    John felt that was a good way to phrase it. Not too childish but not too creepy.

    Jim was almost back to his hotel when he got the text.  His heart swelled.  Although he heard that from countless people, it actually meant something when John said it.  By now, there was no getting out of this, so he figured he might as well embrace it.

     _Not as much as you mean to me. -JM_

    John couldn’t help but giggle as he read over the text. Had he been worrying over nothing the whole time? Relieved, he smiled down at the screen and tried to think of something sweet to say.

     _Despite how much trouble I ended up in last time, can I call you again? I promise I won’t leave the phone on this time. -JW_

_In a minute.  I’m almost back in my suite. -JM_

    With that, Jim opened up his door and slipped inside.  Once he had kicked off his shoes and changed into pyjamas, he flopped onto the bed.  His blood coursed with excitement at the prospect of talking to John.  There was so much to be discussed.  Honestly, he wasn’t sure what direction the conversation would go first.  That thrilled him more than anything else.

_Okay, now. -JM_

    While he waited, John practically bounced on his mattress. Things were going surprisingly well, and - God - did he want to hear Jim’s voice again. As soon as he received the okay, he dialed Jim’s number and curled up under the blankets. “Jim?” His voice was gentle, almost hesitant. The steady beat of his heart echoed in his ears as he waited to hear Jim’s acknowledgement.

    Jim couldn’t help but smile upon hearing John’s voice.  Even now, he sounded so hopeful.  “Hello, John,” he greeted, just as quiet.  “I take it that you have something specific in mind that you want to talk about?”

    John took a deep breath. This was it, then. There was so much he wanted to say. “Yeah. Yeah, there is. I just wanted to tell you properly how much I - I mean, how much you mean to me. I’m not particularly good at opening up or talking about how I feel, but-” He let out a shaky laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “I care about you. A lot. You’re almost all I think about. I miss you every day, Jim, and I…” He trailed off, trying to find the strength to say what he really needed to.

    Jim’s breath had caught in his throat.  Obviously, words had failed John in a way that they would never Jim.  “John, when you disappeared, I couldn’t eat.  I couldn’t sleep.  I couldn’t go an hour without thinking about you,” he confessed.  “I haven’t slept with anyone else since you because I feel like I would be cheating on you.  And I must say that this is all absolutely bloody terrifying to me.  But I just want you to know that I understand.  You don’t have to say anything at all.  I understand what you want to say.”

    Even if he _did_ know, it wasn’t the same as John actually saying it. It would be so easy just to tell him how he felt. No metaphors. No dancing around it. So why couldn’t he? There was no reason to hold back, especially after Jim’s admission. John smiled and pressed the phone tight against his ear. He could handle three little words, couldn’t he? “Jim, I love you,” he blurted. “And don’t tell me it’s too soon or that I’m young, and it’ll change, because I don’t want to hear it. I’m not asking for anything in return. I just want you to know how I feel about you.”

    Jim let out a long breath as those words passed from John’s lips to his ears.  Suddenly, everything became horrifically real for him.  “It is too soon, and you are too young, but ask me if I care about either of those things.  Because I don’t.”  He shouldn’t be doing this.  Why couldn’t he just shut this all down?  Tell John to move on with his life?  It would be better for both of them.  And yet, Jim’s heart rebelled against his brain.  “But, John, this isn’t - I mean, I’m not someone you can just jump into a relationship with.  I told you already about the travelling and whatnot.  That’s not even dealing with the paparazzi.  And what if your parents found out somehow?”  He purposefully kept away from the issues that would arise for him.

    “I know,” John replied, more than a little exasperated. “We could easily say that I’m an intern working under your PA. That would take care of both my parents and the paparazzi. But I know if it ever got out, you’d be ruined. And I don’t want that. You’ve worked so hard for everything you have, Jim.” John bit his lip, fighting back his tears. There was no way they could make it work, and he knew that. Jim needed to be protected, especially from the media. If they found out about John, his career would be over, and it would be all John’s fault. “I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I _want._ I want you to have this - everything! - but I also want _you._ And that’s not an option right now.”

    “Oh, Johnny, don’t get upset,” Jim cooed, able to hear the thickness of his voice.  “This is exactly what I was talking about.  Our lives are going to get in the way.  Being with you could end my career, and being with me will be stressful.  You’ll always have to be on your guard, and you could never tell anyone you were dating me.  We’d both be constantly fighting an uphill battle to be together.”  He let out a soft sigh.  “Besides, you have university to worry about.  I can’t have you pretending to be an intern when you’re going to become a medical student.”  Running his fingers through his hair, Jim felt miserable.  “But - for what it’s worth - I do love you, too.”

    John’s heart sank. It would never happen, no matter how requited the feelings may be. He sniffled and closed his eyes as he mulled over Jim’s words. Jim loved him, and Jim also couldn’t be with him. He couldn’t tag along after Jim in any way, shape, or form. The futility of their shared feelings coaxed a sarcastic chuckle from him as he rolled over. “Well at least there’s that,” John muttered. “Nothing can ever come of it, but it’s there.” It was a shitty situation to be in, to be sure. Everything about it was complicated and awful, and somehow Jim’s reciprocated love only made it worse.

    “John, I don’t know what to do,” Jim confessed.  At 27 years old, he never thought he would feel this helpless.  “Magnussen won’t help unless there’s a good cause to, and he’s the only person I can rely on nowadays.”  He hesitated.  “I can’t blame him for not helping, but it doesn’t make it any easier.  The only thing we can do is wait.  We’ll keep texting and calling, and when you get out of uni, we can start dating without nearly the scandal around it.”  He was trying to find some silver lining.

    “Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take me to get a medical degree? Christ, you’ll probably find someone else while I’m still working on my MB. That’s years down the road, Jim! How could you still be interested?” Keeping the sorrow out of his voice was impossible.

    Jim floundered for a moment, feeling zapped of energy.  He stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, unable to process anything.  Without warning, the full force of the realisation crashed down on him.  He had let himself dream too much.  He had given himself a license to fantasize, and now he was paying the price: the pain of loss. “I know.  Stupid idea.  I just thought that maybe - but of course not.  I was being silly.”  He shook his head.  “Because this isn’t a movie or a novel.  This is real life.  True love can’t trump everything in real life.”  He didn’t even realise he had said all of that aloud.

    John scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed loudly. “No. No, it can’t. It’s fucking awful, isn’t it? I hate this! I hate that I’m young. I hate that I’m not just as famous. I hate that I can’t fucking _do_ anything about this!” Realizing he was almost shouting, John cut himself off and slammed his fist into the pillow beside him. “This is all we get. Just this tenuous connection while you’re close enough for me to call and text.”

    “I’m sorry,” Jim whispered, closing his eyes.  “But then again, you deserve better than this, Johnny.  You deserve to be with someone who loves you more than fears losing his job.  I’d be a rubbish boyfriend anyway.  You’d either be spoilt rotten or entirely ignored at any given time.  There’s no in-between.  I go through dark mood swings, and I’m unreliable.”  With that, Jim let out a bitter laugh.  No wonder no one wanted to date him.  “But I do love texting and calling you, and I will be more than happy with just that.”

    “I could get used to the former. I’m already used to the latter albeit not from you. But it’s fine. It’s all fine. You’ve got me until you decide to say ‘yes’ backstage to someone else.” That was the last thing John wanted, but he knew that one day it would win over the feelings Jim had for him. Despite what he said, Jim would one day need human contact that John couldn’t provide.

    “So we just continue on like this?” Jim pressed.  He didn’t like the sound of it, but it couldn’t be helped.  Any contact was better than no contact, as the last three days more than proved.  “I will take it.”  With that, he let out a long sigh.  “I’ll be happy enough that you’re still in my life.”

    “Yeah,” John replied softly, though he was disappointed. “Yeah, we continue like this. We can text, and call, and send pictures. It won’t be ideal, but it’ll be good enough.”

    Jim hummed in response.  Exhaustion was finally beginning to take its toll on his body.  “Sleep well, you hear?  We’ll talk again in the morning.  Promise.”

    John could hear the exhaustion in Jim’s voice and knew he shouldn’t be keeping him up so late. “Yeah. Alright. Sleep well, Jim.”

    “I love you,” Jim whispered before hanging up.  He was no better than an in-the-closet teenager, and he hated himself for it.  Curling up on his side, he tried to pay no mind to his mobile.  There was nothing either of them could do, after all.  He just had to remember that.  With the way things were, nothing could be done.

    “I love you too.” Though it was difficult, John set his phone aside and curled up beneath the blankets. If Jim truly loved him, they would find a way, even if it involved subsisting on mobile contact. It could be enough for him. It _had_ to be.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the tour finally over, Jim finds himself with free time on his hands. However, a promise to Magnussen forces him to keep his distance, even as it eats away at him and John both-- but there are ways around that promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this one! We've both had some personal things to take care of, but we're back! The dynamic of Jim and John's relationship is starting to shift, and I hope you have as much fun reading it as we are writing it! Don't forget to share it, if you're willing, because new reads, comments, and kudos are always an encouragement to writers!
> 
> Especially on a project like this! It's huge, and personally, it's the biggest I've ever been a part of. Luna's no stranger to long, in-depth works (as any fan of [Pawn Takes King](http://archiveofourown.org/works/539320) can attest), but the amount of editing and writing on this piece is a huge step for me and I'm loving it! Sometimes it gets a little overwhelming, but neither of us is going to give up!
> 
> So for anyone who's signal boosted us and this story, from both our hearts, thank you so very much!
> 
> -ChosenOfAshurha

    After their mutual confessions, Jim found it harder to not think about John.  Never before had he been unable to obtain what he desired, but knowing that John wanted him back made it twenty times harder.  They still texted regularly, but Jim had to refrain from talking about the matter.  Never again did he press for another declaration of love nor did he give one of his own.  However, he hoped that John would understand through the manner of their current texts that such feelings still existed.  He always checked that John was alright, asked how his day was going, if he slept well, and always made sure to wish him a good night.  Every moment he could manage, he remained attached to his phone in order to be accessible.

    Magnussen gave him knowing looks but never spoke a word against John for the rest of the tour.  Perhaps he realised that it was a futile argument.  Or maybe he finally understood John wasn’t like the others.  Jim knew that was more than an optimistic thought.  However, the reprieve was appreciated.  Jim couldn’t remember the last time he and Magnussen went so long without having some sort of heated debate.

    All good things must come to an end, though.  When the tour had its final concert, Magnussen approached Jim afterwards.  “I’ve got your ticket booked for Dublin.  I’m sure your parents will be thrilled to see you again.”

    That was true.  It had been months since Jim last spoke with his parents, and it was even longer since he last saw them.  However, Jim hardly wanted to return to Dublin.  “Cancel it then.  I need to go back to London first.”

    Magnussen’s eternal scowl deepened.  They were treading on dangerous ground now.  “You’ve never refused Dublin before.  Why would you want to go to London?”  Both of them knew why.  He just wanted to force Jim to admit it.

    Unfortunately for him, Jim wasn’t about to admit to anything.  “I merely want to have a chance to actually be _in_ London.  We could scope out a studio for me to move into for the next album.”

    “Jim,” Magnussen called out.

    “Besides, I have yet to be able to see any of London at all!  There’s so much to see there.”

    Magnussen flexed his jaw.  “We both know that’s not why you’re going back there,” he stated.  “It’s about that boy, isn’t it?  I _told_ you-”

    “No!” Jim objected.  “It’s not.”

    Staring at Jim, Magnussen stated, “Fine.  If that’s the case then you’ll have no issue with not telling him that you returned.”

    Jim’s heart dropped.  Of course Magnussen would call him out on it.  “What?”

    “You heard me,” Magnussen replied.  “You want to go there to check out studios?  Fine.  We’ll do that.  But I’m not going to willingly send you to London just to watch you wreck your own career.  And we both know if you tell him, you’re going to meet up with him.  And if you meet up with him, you’re going to get caught.  And if you get caught, I _will_ let you sink.”

    Pressing his lips together, Jim knew that Magnussen had a point.  He was trying to keep Jim safe, but Jim was far too tempted by John to stay away.  If he made this promise, he could keep it.  He would just “check in” every now and again and keep tabs.  And just _seeing_ him again would be more than enough.

    “Deal,” he stated, holding out his hand.

    Magnussen shook it.  “Don’t disappoint me, Jim.”

    “I don’t plan to,” Jim responded.  His heart hammered against his ribcage as he thought about John’s bright blue eyes and sun-coloured hair.  It wouldn’t be long, although keeping this a secret would be the hardest thing he ever did.  But it would be worth it, he was sure.

* * *

 

   With each new message, John began to forget what life was like _before_ he’d met Jim. Even after his father lifted the ban on his activities, he clung to the mobile connection as if it was oxygen. When they were finally allowed to see each other, Mike naturally asked what had kept him away for a month. “Tom and I have been worried,” Mike said as they crossed the grass leading to the rugby field. “You never answered our calls or texts.”

   “Grounded,” John replied vaguely. “I was out all weekend after the concert, spending time with a friend. I forgot to call home, and my father- well, you of all people know how he can be.”

   Mike lowered his eyes and cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with John’s answer. Obviously, he hadn’t forgotten in incident with the cellar either. “Yeah, I do. Believe me, John, I do. Did he take away your mobile?”

    “Mmhmm. Wouldn’t let me go out, either. Had no way to contact you guys.”

    “You’ve missed a lot. Sarah went to France for the semester! I’m so jealous. I’d love to travel.”

    His quick change of topic was a relief to John. After all, it was Mike he’d first kissed, and Mike who’d seen his father hauling him down the hall by his arm while John thrashed and tried to free himself. Mike knew _exactly_ what John’s father was like, but much like John himself, he was powerless to stop him.

    “That’s nice. Hope she takes lots of photos.”

    Tom was waiting with the rugby ball tucked under his arm and a cocky grin on his face. “Been wondering where you’d gotten to, John!” he called, tossing the ball to him.

    The leather beneath his fingers was exactly what John had been needing. After securing his phone in his bag, he followed his friends and took his place on the field. Hours of playing passed by as if they were minutes.Sweating, laughing, and thoroughly exhausted, John collapsed on the soft earth with Tom and Mike beside him. Being cooped up inside had bothered him more than he’d realized.

   Holding his phone at an angle so they couldn’t see, John checked his messages while the boys chatted on about their makeshift match. Nothing in his inbox was from Jim, but that wasn’t exactly new. Some days, travel left him exhausted.  Other days, he’d be drained after a show and wouldn’t message John until he woke up. Those days were getting fewer, though. It bothered John a little, but he didn’t let it get to him. Jim loved him, after all. Still, to be safe, he sent him a quick text.

     _Hey, handsome. Hope you’re getting some well-deserved rest. -JW_

    “Who are you texting?”

    “My friend. The one I spent the weekend with. They’re traveling, and I just - you know. I wanted to make sure they were safe.”

    Tom peeked over at him, giggling to himself. “So this friend… she cute?”

    “It’s not like that, we’re just… we’re friends. I like them, yeah, but it’s… Our situation is complex.” Complex didn’t even begin to explain his relationship with Jim Moriarty. _Impossible_ certainly fit, as did _quixotic,_ but _complex_ just barely scratched the surface.

    “Sounds like it. Stayed with her all weekend, risked the wrath of your old man, and you’re so tight-lipped about her!”

    “Maybe I don’t want you chasing after them,” John replied, punching him playfully in the arm. Although neither of them seemed to realize he was avoiding the use of pronouns, Mike knew him far better than Tom. If either of them would figure it out, it would be him. If he cared enough, at least.

    Jim hadn’t lasted twenty-four hours in London without locating John.  It was fairly easy.  All he had to do was hack into John’s mobile’s GPS, which was something he learned to do back when he was eleven.  Honestly, he probably could have become so much more than a rock star if he had wanted, but he just found school unbelievably boring.  Not only that, but he had a dream of becoming renown.  He wanted everyone to know his name, and becoming a celebrity seemed the quickest way possible.  His knack for languages and speech helped him with writing lyrics, and he became fixated on becoming a rock star.  Honestly, he still thought that he could have easily become an actor as well, but his family had no connections into that industry.

    As soon as he was free from Magnussen, he located John.  It seemed that he was in the middle of some park.  He pulled on a London baseball cap, a jumper his mother had sent him, a pair of jeans, a nice scarf, sunglasses, and some sneakers.  With most of his features covered, he doubted that anyone would be able to make out who he was - not even John.

    He hailed a taxi as soon as possible and gave the location.  His knee bounced with anticipation as he checked that John’s location hadn’t moved.  After what seemed ages, Jim paid for the trip and leapt out of the cab.  He strolled into the park and headed straight towards the coordinates.  One glimpse.  That’s all he needed.

    Suddenly, his phone jingled, and he quickly silenced it before reading the message.  John must have been thinking about him.  The thought brought a smile to his face.  Even after all this time, he seemed just as in love with Jim as ever.

     _You telling me I need beauty sleep?  You calling me ugly? -JM_

    With that, he checked the location again and continued forward.  It wouldn’t be far now, and he would get to see John for the first time in too long.  It was merely a shame that John couldn’t see him in return.

    John chuckled. It was good to see Jim in high spirits. Surely his tour would be over soon, and that would be a huge amount of stress lifted from his shoulders. After that, he’d just need to record, at his own pace - hopefully in London, where John could see him again.

     _God, no, you’re anything but. Just don’t want you getting sick. All that travel, you know I worry. Just care about you. -JW_

    “So what’s her name?” Tom asked, craning up to take a look at his phone. John pulled it to his chest and pretended to look offended.

    “None of your business.”

    “Probably shouldn’t press, Tom. John’s got a hell of a left hook.”

    “Oh, like you’d know! Never hit you a day in his life! He’s a downright gentleman.”

    “Well, you’ll both find out if you don’t knock it off,” John retorted, beaming. “You two certainly know how to ruin a good day.”

    While Mike and Tom kept speculating about the “girl” in John’s life, John closed his eyes and tried to picture Jim. Would he be at a pub, phone beside him on the fancy wood bar? Or perhaps reclining on the sofa in his suite? Maybe he was backstage getting prepared for a show?  That was always an option.

_I’m fine.  Thank you for your concern, though.  How’s your day been? -JM_

    Jim sauntered towards his destination.  Thus far, no one paid him any attention.  The cap itself screamed “tourist,” so he just became part of the background for most people.  He rounded the corner to find a pitch, and he noticed three boys laying on it.  His eyes located John in seconds, and his breath stopped.  John looked glorious, his hair shining in the bright sunlight as he laid about with two other blokes.  One of them nudged John teasingly before saying something that was out of earshot.  Stepping forward, Jim carefully skirted around them, but he could see John’s smile.

   Suddenly, Jim felt as though he had the wind knocked out of him.  His heart ached as a dark thought passed through his mind: _John doesn’t need me_.  He wasn’t stupid.  Of course he knew that John had other friends.  It was only natural that they could make John smile and laugh, too.  However, their texting world had given Jim the sensation that it was just them.  He let himself think that he was the only person who mattered in John’s life.  And he loved that feeling.  Someone wanted and needed him in an unfamiliar sense.  However, it was painfully clear now that that wasn’t the case.  If Jim left, John would have other people to turn to for support.

    Jim?  Jim had no one anymore.

    Suddenly, he heard John’s text tone sound off.  It was the one he had set for himself the day he gave John his number.  Without a word, he made his way around the pitch, his sights set on the road.  He needed to get away.

    “ _Another_ text? Christ, John, she must really like you.”

    “I should hope!” John laughed, opening the message. He brushed his thumb over the screen and grinned down at Jim’s text.

     _Been alright. Went out with some friends - first time I’ve been out all month. Forgot how much I love the sun. Played some rugby, as much as we could with only three players. I’ll be heading home soon. What about you? Break any fans’ hearts, do any new interviews? -JW_

    “Where’d you meet her?” Tom asked as he sat up.

    “The concert. We met backstage.”

    “Is she cute? You never did answer me.”

    John tipped his head back, turning toward the sunlight. “Large, brown eyes. The softest lips - God, you wouldn’t believe it. Jet black hair, dimples, soft skin… Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

    “Ooh, soft lips, huh? So there was kissing?”

    “What there was is _none of your business!_ ” Giving him a playful shove, John got to his feet and dusted the grass and dirt from his jeans. Mike watched him thoughtfully, and it was clear to John that something about his description had put him on alert. _Well, there’s no way he doesn’t know now. He pays attention. He knows exactly who I just described._

    Jim’s phone vibrated in his pocket, but he paid it little heed.  Instead, he continued to distance himself from the pitch.  As soon as he was far enough away, he flopped down against a tree and fished out his mobile.  Text from John.  He sighed and turned the screen off before leaning back against the tree.  That shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did, but he had to wonder when was the last time he hung out with _friends_.  Not for over a year now if not longer.  When was the last time he even had a friend?  Without thinking, he removed his cap and dragged his fingers through his hair.  He was an idiot through and through.  Of course he didn’t matter as much to John.  It was an entirely different situation.

    Finally, he opened the message and skimmed it.  John was clearly under the delusion that Jim was still on tour.  He was lucky John didn’t pay closer attention, or he would have realised it ended two days ago.

     _No, nothing like that.  Probably won’t be doing interviews for a while.  And as for breaking hearts,  I suppose that just happens.  Enjoy your time out with your friends, though, and we’ll talk later when you’re not so busy. -JM_

    That didn’t seem right. John frowned and walked away from Tom and Mike, focusing on typing out a reply instead.

     _Something wrong? You don’t seem to be as cheerful as before. Magnussen giving you a hard time? -JW_

    In the hotel, Jim had called him naïve. At the time, it had bothered John, but now he wondered if there was a hint of truth to it. He hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? The last thing he wanted to do was upset Jim. The boys followed after him, calling his name.

    “John! Heading back without a goodbye? That’s rude!”

    “Something’s come up, I need to go. Besides, if I’m gone too long, my father’ll have my head.”

    “Come on, just a little longer?”

    “Tom, I _can’t,_ I’m sorry.”

    As they jogged to keep pace with him, John headed for the exit.

    Jim laughed bitterly when he read that.  What a way to put it.

     _In a way._ _More like he gave me a hard time, and it wound up that he was right.  I hate it when he’s right. -JM_

    He paused a moment before shaking his head.  For once, he needed to stop being selfish.  John was clearly having a good day, and he wouldn’t let himself spoil it.  John deserved better than that.

     _Don’t worry about me, though.  You just have fun, okay?  I want to hear about all of your adventures later_ _!_ _-JM_

     _No adventures, I’m going home. Curfew, after all. -JW_

    John glanced up long enough to cross the street, his friends trailing after him. Magnussen being right about something seemed impossible. John never saw Jim agree with him once, not even about trivial things like wardrobe changes.

     _What was he right about? -JW_

    He sent the full message and finally stopped at the crosswalk. “Sorry, I... I’m still technically in trouble. I completely forgot, and…” He sighed and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “I’m sorry. I’ll call you guys though, yeah? And see you in class?”

    Tom clapped him on the back. “I still want to hear about your girlfriend!” he said before waving a hand in goodbye. As he disappeared down the street, Mike hovered close by until he was out of their sight.

    “John, you described Jim Moriarty himself. I should know. You’ve got his face plastered all over your bedroom. Is that why you stayed out all weekend? Did you-?” Mike’s eyebrows rose, suggesting the intent of his question.

   “What? No! No, Mike, no. I wouldn’t be that lucky. Really, I didn’t! I-”

   “If you did, you know I wouldn’t breathe a word of it.”

    John sighed. Mike was certainly trustworthy and discreet, keeping his own sexuality hidden as well as John’s. After a moment’s hesitation, he continued, “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, alright? Right now, I need to get home before my father goes nuclear. I can’t handle another fight, Mike, I really can’t.”

    “Alright,” Mike said with a nod. “Good luck.”

    “Thanks,” John replied. “I’ll need it.”

     _Don’t worry about it, Johnny.  I just get stroppy when I’m wrong. -JM_

    With that, he raked his fingers through his hair again.  That was a mild way of putting it.  He still couldn’t believe how heart-wrenching it felt to see John having a good time with other people.  How could Jim have ever imagined that he was the only one who got to see that, though?  John wasn’t a social butterfly, but he obviously had friends.  From what Jim could see, they were pretty good friends, too.  Sighing, he shook his head.  He should have never gotten attached.  That was his issue.  He pursued something that he couldn’t have, and it was now biting him in the arse.

     _Get home safe.  I don’t want anything to happen to you. -JM_

_I’ll try. -JW_

    John shoved his phone in his pocket and kept walking. He was eager to get home because something just felt _wrong._ Something he’d said had clearly tipped Jim from cheerful to upset, and Magnussen wasn’t helping. As he walked, John mulled over everything he knew about the men. Magnussen managed Jim, Magnussen hated John, and Magnussen hated Jim associating with him. On a lesser note, he didn’t like Jim to keep the fans waiting. Was this about him? Had Magnussen finally succeeded in convincing Jim that John was more harmful than good?

    Jim rose to his feet.  It was about time he got headed back to the hotel, anyway.  After all, Magnussen would begin to ask questions if he disappeared for too long.  Looking up, he found John walking past him just a few yards off.  He quickly tugged his cap back on and pulled it down to shield his face.  Keeping his face down, he hunched and strode off in the other direction.  He just needed to sleep, and then it would be all better.  Just then, his mobile vibrated, and he found a text from John.

     _Do or do not.  There is no try. -JM_

    Out of the corner of his eye, John swore he caught a glimpse of a man who looked just like Jim. When he glanced back, though, the person was gone. _Lovely. Now I’m fucking hallucinating him,_ John thought with a scowl. That might have been a sign that he should take a step back and push Jim toward the other groupies that still filled the seats of his shows, but John was stubborn. He didn’t want to let go, no matter how bad it was getting.

     _Fine then. I’ll get home safely. -JW_

* * *

 

    Jim wasn’t sure if he was masochistic or not.  After that day in the park, he had sworn off seeing John.  He couldn’t do that to himself again.  One heart-shattering realisation was enough.  Besides, it wasn’t as though they had stopped texting.  In fact, they texted now more than ever.  And Jim still kept some tabs on John’s whereabouts.  More often than not, John spent his time at home or at school.  Therefore, Jim set an alarm on his mobile to go off anytime John was in any other location for more than a fifteen minute span.

    As he was walking back one day, Jim heard the chime go off.  He looked down at his phone and noticed that he was close.  Another park, and Jim became wary.  If John was there with someone, he should know, right?  He should know if John was losing interest, shouldn’t he?  That’s what seemed to be happening the last time he was out.  He didn’t need Jim, and Jim needed to face that fact.  Swallowing hard, he braced himself and headed towards John.

    After the afternoon spent playing rugby with Mike and Tom, John avoided both of them. Lying by omission was still lying, and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep dodging Tom’s questions about his “mysterious girlfriend.” For the most part, Mike was tight-lipped about what he knew. He didn’t breathe a word of it to Tom, at least. Even so, he was just as curious and kept trying to get John to speak about what had transpired the weekend of the concert. John held out as long as he could.

    Nearly a week had passed since that day. The screaming coming from his parents’ bedroom was grating on him, setting him on edge and making him antsy. From what he could infer, tonight would be a dangerous night - a night his father wanted to get physical with someone. Usually, that someone was John. As he sat on his bed and contemplated going out and getting away, his phone buzzed.

     _Hey, you busy? -Stamford_

_No, not really. Why? -JW_

_Want to get coffee? I’ll pay if you talk to me about what happened. -Stamford_

    Was it worth it? Was a cheap drink worth opening up to someone about how badly it hurt to know that he and Jim would never progress beyond their mobile connection? Was it worth opening up just to get out of the house? Yes, John decided. It was.

     _Alright. Tell me where. Remember, no names when I start talking, I don’t want anyone to overhear. -JW_

   With the message sent, John pulled on his shoes and headed out the door.  He arrived at their meeting point to find Mike already there with two cups in his hands.  John took one and quietly explained what happened that fateful night. For the most part, Mike remained relatively quiet. John spent far more time on the actual concert than necessary, trying to stall. However, he eventually got to the backstage point. Mike’s interest piqued.

    “So, what, he just saw you in the line?”

   John nodded and took a sip of his coffee. The worn wood of the bench bit into his back as he shifted to face Mike properly. This was harder than he’d expected it to be.

   “Yeah, I just caught his attention, apparently. I wasn’t screaming or calling his name or anything. I just… I _was._ I was there, barely breathing, just watching him walk closer.”

   “Sounds romantic.”

   “Sounds silly, but thanks.” John paused a moment. “He moved me to the back, you know? I thought I was in trouble, but he just wanted to spend more time talking to me. After he signed my things, it was well past midnight.”

   “And the Tube stopped running,” Mike said.

  “Exactly. So he offered to take me home. Only - it was his hotel. Closest to home I think I’ve ever been, to be honest. One thing led to another, and…”

   “Oh, my _God,_ ” Mike whispered. “You two-?”

   John snorted and nodded. “It was beautiful. God, you have no idea. I got to wake up in his arms. The next night, he brought me to the second performance and took me to dinner afterwards…” Blinking, John looked down at his cup. The dinner had been a fiasco if he was being honest.

    “John? What’s wrong?”

    Jim noticed John sitting on a bench with one of the blokes from before.  Blood racing, he shifted forward slightly and leaned against the back of a tree, out of sight but within earshot.  He held his breath and listened carefully.  John was _bragging_ about being with him.  Of course he was.  After all, he was “Moriarty.”  Who _didn’t_ want to tell anyone and everyone they knew that they slept with him?  Somehow, though, it hurt him to hear John saying these things.  But it also gave him a chance to glimpse into John’s mind.  Letting out a long breath, he looked down at his mobile.

     _Did you know that the Japanese think that sneezing is indicative of someone talking about you? -JM_

_Can you explain my sneezing fits? -JM_

    “It… It didn’t go so well. Dammit, Mike, everything was going perfectly at first, and we just - I didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t _let_ myself say goodbye, and now every night, I lie awake and wonder how different it would be if I had asked him to let me stay. He made it clear that he didn’t want me to, at dinner, but…”

   “John, he’s _famous_ ,” Mike whispered. “I mean, he’s probably got tons of groupies, yeah?”

   “Don’t you fucking dare, Mike. I don’t want to hear it. This is different. I feel like half my heart’s been ripped out of my chest. I feel empty. I feel like - God, I can’t even put it in words. I love him. I love him, and there’s nothing I can do except sit up every night and pray he hasn’t found someone else yet. I know it’s stupid, alright? I know there’ll be others, and I know they think they’ll be ‘the one,’ but you don’t understand. He actually seems to care about me. We’re even still in touch.”

    “The texts?”

    John nodded. “The te-” In his hands, his phone played Jim’s alert. He paled a little as he read both messages. How was he going to answer this one?

     _That’s my fault, I’m sorry for all the sneezing. -JW_

    It wasn’t a lie at least. John sent the reply and looked up to find Mike watching him carefully.

    “I’m so sorry, John.”

    “What? Why are you sorry?”

    “You obviously care about him-”

    “Love him,” John interjected.

    “Yeah, alright, you love him. You love him, and not being with him’s eating at you. You said yourself that you don’t feel complete. John, that’s not good. It’s a dependency. You can’t be with him, and he can’t be with you, and I just think - I don’t know, maybe keeping in contact isn’t such a good idea. It’ll just keep hurting, right up until he moves on, and then you’ll be devastated.”

    Jim slid down the tree and shook with his adrenaline.  He was seething by now.  Who did this _Mike_ think he was, trying to take his John away from him like that?  Why did his opinion matter so much?  He set his jaw and fought the temptation to go out there and wring that bastard’s neck.  It wouldn’t be the best way to kill him, after all.  No, that would be far too messy and not nearly painful enough.  Jim would have to catch him unawares first.  Possibly after school at some point - get on the bus with him and exit at his stop.  Then he would drug him and take him to a warehouse.  After that, he would tie him down to a chair.  Waterboarding might be a good way to introduce himself.

    In his heart, John knew Mike was right. Holding on to Jim like that would only hurt him more. Even so, John wasn’t ready to hear it. “I thought you wanted to find out what was bothering me and what happened with my father.”

    “I do!” Mike protested.

    “Then stop with the advice. I don’t need it. I’m happy with this. Mike, it’s all I’ve got. I’m not giving up the contact, and I’m definitely not giving _him_ up. Long distance relationships work all the time. This is no different.”

    “Except his career is on the line.”

    “Oh, when isn’t it? Seriously, you’ve seen the way parents raise hell about him. You’re the only person who knows, and that’s because I trust you. After all we’ve been through, I know you won’t tell anyone. If not because you’re a fan then because you care about me. You know what my father’ll do if he finds out.”

    Mike nodded solemnly. “I might be worried about it, but you know I wouldn’t do anything to break your trust. Best friends, right?”

    “Yeah. Best friends.”

    In Jim’s mind, he didn’t deserve to be breathing the same air as John.  He didn’t deserve to be graced with John’s kindness and consideration.  And he definitely didn’t deserve to be John’s _best friend_!  How could John even say that with a straight face?  But Jim stopped himself from going over there.  After all, John remained true to him.  He wasn’t about to stop contact with Jim, and that’s what mattered.  He let out a long breath before finally looking down at his message.  Oh, John was a clever boy.  Smiling, Jim caressed John’s name.

     _It’s alright.  I just hope you’re saying nice things about me. -JM_

    The second time John’s phone chimed, he smiled down at the screen before opening it. Mike watched him quietly as his fingers flew across the screen.

     _Nice things like how much you mean to me. -JW_

    “So, staying out all weekend got you grounded?”

    John looked up as the message went off. Mike was changing the topic, and he was a grateful. The story of his grounding was somehow less painful than dwelling on the future he and Jim would never have. “Yeah, there was… we had a fight.”

    “Like the cellar?”

    “No, not like the cellar, thankfully. Not nearly as bad. It was still awful, but nothing like that. Lots of shouting, though. Harry moved out, so a lot of that was aimed at me. I got saddled with chores - all of them - and told I wasn’t allowed to leave until he said so. Hadn’t take my phone yet, though.”

    Mike frowned. “So why didn’t you call?”

    “Um… I-I didn’t want you guys to worry. You, at least. Tom still has no idea.”

    “He still can’t tell you’re not texting a girl.”

    John laughed a little, remembering the way Tom kept mining for information. “It’s better that way. He’d tell half the bloody class before the hour turned, and my father would hear about it. That’s the last thing I need. He already suspects since…”

    “The kiss.”

    “Yeah.”

    Both boys looked away, watching cars roll past from their quiet bench. John didn’t want to think about that. It’d been a mistake.

    Jim’s jaw flexed.  Even though they might be “best friends,” Jim didn’t want John around this bloke any longer than necessary.  And this reference to a kiss bothered him beyond all measure.  Hadn’t Jim been John’s first male in every regard, after all?  At least, that was the impression he had received.  He picked up his phone and smirked as a scheme began to form in his mind.

     _I miss you so much.  -JM_

    John and Mike sat in silence until the text alert rang out again. Mike watched from the corner of his eye as John opened the newest message. With a warm smile, he caressed the screen. The motion clearly bothered Mike, but John didn’t care. Jim _missed_ him.

     _I miss you too, Daddy. -JW_

    He hadn’t called him that since the day he’d left, and part of him worried that it was too much. Still, it felt good to say - well, type.

_You know I love it when you call me that. -JM_

    They had gone painfully silent, which meant that it wouldn’t take much to get John to leave.  A smile played on his lips as he carefully typed.

     _Daddy misses that tight arse of yours, too.  And the way you moan.  And how your jaw drops when you orgasm.  Daddy’s so hard for you right now, Johnny-boy. -JM_

    Taking a drink had turned out to be dangerous. John read the message as he tried to swallow his coffee, ending up choking and coughing as he pulled the phone to his chest.

    “John? Are you alright?”

    “Yeah, I just… I have to go. Um. Thanks for the coffee. And for letting me vent. I feel better already.” He gave Mike a small smile and hurried off, leaving him staring after in open-mouthed surprise.

     _Oh, my God, you’re killing me! I’m just as hard, Daddy, thinking of the way you growled my name and how you came all over me… -JW_

    He needed a cab. Now.

    Jim was more than satisfied by the outcome.  Smirking, he rose to his feet and strode off, leaving Mike in his wake.  He would have to keep tabs on him as well.  After all, he couldn’t have _his_ John interacting with such a bloke.  No, their severance would come as soon as Jim could create it.  For now, though, he needed to keep John preoccupied.

_Daddy wants to tie your hands to the headboard.  He wants to gag you and open you up slowly so that you’re shaking with anticipation.  He wants to suck your cock so languidly that you would be begging for more if not for the gag.  Daddy wants to own you again, Johnny-boy. -JM_

    “Oh, fuck,” John cursed, looking from his phone to the traffic. He knew he couldn’t afford a cab, but he _needed_ to get home. A frustrated whine slipped from his lips as he crossed to the other side of the pavement.

     _God damn, I’m already shaking. I want that, too. Daddy, I want you so badly. You already own me. I’m yours entirely. -JW_

    His fingers flew over the screen as he raised his head to consider his surroundings. There was no way he could make it to the Tube station as worked up as he was. He _ached_ with the need for release. A line of shops stretched to his left, and a narrow alley ran between them. John ducked inside and followed it back, picking the right-hand path when the alley split.

    Jim smirked as he read that.  “Damn right, you are,” he remarked before hailing a cab.  It was just his self-control that kept him from being just as hard as John.  As soon as he was inside and the cab in motion, he sat back and admired the text.  Johnny-boy clearly needed his daddy, and Jim was more than happy to provide.

_Are you touching yourself, you dirty boy?  Daddy should spank you. -JM_

    Alone in the alley, John fell back against the brick wall and slid his hand down the front of jeans. It was wrong, and he knew that. Anyone could enter the path and find him. Public Indecency was not something he wanted to be arrested for, but even so, he had to do _something._ Deft fingers pulled his zipper down and worked the button open. John’s hand dipped beneath the elastic band of his pants and grazed along the heated skin of his cock.

     _Yes I am, Daddy,_ John typed with his free hand. _Couldn’t even wait to get home. Doesn’t feel as good as your hands, though. Or your mouth. -JW_

    Jim bit back a moan as he realised what John was doing.  There was no better way to assert his domination in John’s life than this.  After all, this was the ultimate control.  If he could make John Watson do whatever he wanted when he wasn’t even there, he would never have to worry again about infidelity or that horrible Mike.

_Daddy’s going to tell you just how to touch yourself.  First, tighten your fist and stroke long and slow.  Swipe your thumb over the tip every third time.  If you don’t do as Daddy orders, I will know, and you will be punished like the bad boy you are. -JM_

    Part of John loved the idea of Jim’s ‘punishment,’ even though he knew that Jim wouldn’t magically appear to force him to his knees or bend him over a mattress. For a moment, his heart sank at the thought of never feeling Jim’s hand striking his smooth skin again, but he pushed the sorrow away. Jim had given him an order, and there was no way he was going to disobey.

    He did just as Jim instructed, whimpering at the languid pace. On every third stroke, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over his head. God, it felt good, but it wasn’t enough to bring him to finish. After a few minutes of counting each stroke in his head, John sent him another text.

     _I need more. Daddy, please! It’s not enough… -JW_

    Smirking at his mobile phone, Jim knew at that moment that John had obeyed him.  It was a glorious feeling to have.  Here was utter control of a human being, and he loved every second of it.  John was _his_ , and no one was about to take that away from him.  Not even “best friend” Mike stood a chance.

_Okay, Johnny.  You can stroke as fast as you want now, but make sure to keep swiping the tip, alright? -JM_

_Yes, sir. -JW_

    John tilted his head back as he increased the pace of his arm, letting his head rest against the sharp brick. In his mind, he pictured every scenario Jim sent him: tied to the headboard, gasping Jim’s name as he fucked into him, being spanked while Jim growled about how naughty he was… Moaning, he rubbed over his head again and again as his thighs began to tremble. _If only he could see what he does to me,_ John thought.

Jim hummed and waited, not wanting to distract John if he was concentrating.  However, this helped appease some of his concerns.  John was obviously still dedicated to him, and he wasn’t about to let anyone ruin that.  If Mike got in the way, Jim would simply remove him as an obstacle.  It wasn’t as though he didn’t have the resources, after all.

    Fighting to stifle his groans, John sent off another text to Jim as his body reached its limits.

     _I’m close, Daddy. -JW_

John wasn’t sure what he expected in response, but knowing that Jim was thinking about him while he jerked off in a public alley was incredibly hot. He didn’t want Jim to stop.

    Jim felt his mobile buzz, and he smiled at it.  Oh, John was most definitely his now.

_Then come for Daddy, Johnny-boy.  Come for me so loud that I can hear you from where I am. -JM_

    That was all it took. Jim’s order, typed from God only knew how far away. John came hard, pulsing over his fist and onto the cobblestone beneath him as his body curved and stiffened. He cried out as his eyes rolled back in his head. He lingered a moment, catching his breath and listening to the loud beating of his heart. When he was finally in control of himself again, John wiped his hand on his jeans and zipped himself back up. As he headed back toward the proper street, he cast a glance back at the small mess he’d left.

            He felt no need to clean it up.

* * *

    Jim felt infinitely better about their relationship now.  Whatever dark cloud had been looming over him was now vanquished by their last close encounter.  On his way back to his hotel room, he heard his phone chime.  John, it seemed, wasn’t too far off - probably at a coffee shop or something.  What would be the harm of walking past?  It’s not as though John would recognise him, what with how thoroughly he was bundled.  With a smile, he turned and trotted on up the road, wondering what he would see John doing this time.

    Eager for a day off, and alone, John had headed downtown to treat himself using his meager allowance. He found himself at a small café, sipping at a rich cup of coffee and snacking on a scone. The copy of _The Silmarillion_ that Tom had gifted him was spread on the round, wire table in front of him, and he was lost to the world as he read. Beside it sat his mobile, which he checked every now and again with an air of disappointment. He was dying to hear from Jim. Even if he had nothing profound to say, it was nice to talk. Today, John thought he might even ask to call him.

    It’d been far too long since he’d heard Jim’s voice, and calling him while in the city would be safer than making hushed calls in his bedroom. With the warm sun shining down on him, he found it impossible to worry about their relationship, especially after their passionate texting the day John met up with Mike. That had been absolutely incredible.

    Today, John was alone, but Jim was relieved to see that he looked perfectly content with that.  Despite his earlier plan to merely walk by, Jim slipped inside and ordered a tea to take away.  When he noticed John glance at his mobile for a third time, Jim couldn’t help but give in to his unspoken desire.  Hell, he doubted he would ever be able to deny John anything.

     _I’m bored!  How’s your day going? -JM_

    As the tone played, John snapped up from his story. He caressed the screen, as had become his habit when Jim contacted him, before reading the message. John’s smile lit his entire face, making the blue of his eyes shine brighter in his delight. Jim was awake and contacted John first. It took a weight from his shoulders - no longer would he have to fear waking Jim or interrupting him. After setting down his cup, he texted Jim back with deft fingers.

     _It’s going well. I’m sitting in a nice café, enjoying relative freedom. Anything I can do to help the boredom? -JW_

    Jim caught the look on John’s face when he received his text, and his breath was taken away.  He appeared so genuinely thrilled by it.  Heart melting, he wished he could go over there, wrap John up in his arms, and tell him everything.  However, he had promised Magnussen that John wouldn’t know about his whereabouts, and he was a man of his word.  His mobile suddenly chimed with the text.  Panicked, Jim snatched his tea up before bolting out of the café.  “Fucking idiot!” he snarled at himself.

    While he waited for Jim’s reply, John went back to his book. A bloke in the back got up and rushed out, cursing under his breath, and John watched him leave with little interest. He was, after all, being a bit rude. _Something must have gone wrong,_ John thought, frowning after him. _Better luck next time, mate._ Something about him felt oddly familiar, though. Whether it was the clothes he wore or the way he scowled, John wasn’t sure, but there was certainly _something._ As he rounded the street corner and disappeared from sight, all John could think of was his brightly colour tourist cap.

    Jim breathed for a long moment, calming down some now that he was away.  Looking down at his mobile, he pulled open the message and read it.  Just as his eyes finished scanning the last word, a realisation washed over him.  They started texting after parting ways, so John couldn’t possibly know what Jim’s ringtone sounded like.  Jim had panicked over nothing.  Groaning, he smacked himself in the head.

   “Fucking idiot,” he muttered again.  Perhaps he could sneak back inside in a few minutes?  He was nervous about doing that, though, in case John noticed.  Sucking in a deep breath, he typed out his answer.

    _I don’t know, to be honest.  This is helping, though.  You could just tell me about anything, and it would help. -JM_

     _Could I maybe call you while I’m out? As corny as it sounds, I miss the sound of your laugh,_ _and I bet it’d be more fun for you_ _. -JW_

    John finished up his coffee and packed up his book while he decided where to head next. If he went to see a movie, he couldn’t call Jim. There was a bookstore not too far away that he’d been interested in viewing, though. The thought was tempting. He didn’t have enough for a book, but there was nothing wrong with browsing.

    Well, that effectively ruined any plan of going back.  He was torn.  If John called him, they could talk, which would be brilliant.  However, he would have to stay away and get to a location that wasn’t as noisy in order to keep his true location secret.  But he couldn’t just let this opportunity slip through his fingers.  It had been far too long since they last spoke.

     _Of course you can so long as you’re not busy.  Give me a few minutes, though.  I haven’t been up long, and I’m still a bit groggy. -JM_

    Why did lying to John come so naturally to him nowadays?  He hated that he had to do it, but he had no other option.  Magnussen ensured that much.  Raising a hand, Jim hailed a cab.  It would be quiet enough in there, he found.

     _Alright.  Give me a call when you can. -JM_

    While he headed toward the shop, John pulled out his phone and dialed Jim’s number. His heart fluttered in his chest at the prospect of finally hearing his voice for the first time in weeks. It had been entirely too long, by his count.

    “Hey, Jim,” he said in greeting when the call connected. “How are you?”

    “I’m doing fine,” Jim responded, relaxing into his seat.  He closed his eyes and visualised the look on John’s face when he received that text.  How he wished he could see the look on John’s face now.  “Having a relaxing day today.  What about you?  What book are you reading?”

    “The Silmarillion,” John responded immediately. Hearing Jim’s voice was so cathartic that he didn’t realize he had said nothing about reading a book. “I got a new copy for my birthday, and I figured it was a good day to re-read it. I’m actually a big Tolkien fan if you can believe it. I’m glad your day’s going well. Nothing on your schedule?”

    “I can believe it,” Jim answered with a laugh.  He changed his visual to John seeing his personal library for the first time.  God, he would be so astounded.  “I’m sure you’re a huge bookworm, aren’t you?  You should see my library at home.  I think I wouldn’t see you for days if I let you in there.”

    “How big is it? ‘Beauty and the Beast’ sized, or is it more manageable? I-I’d love to see it,” John finished quietly, stopping in his tracks. There was no chance that he’d ever see Jim’s library for himself. After all, if they _did_ manage to be together, it wouldn’t be for years. Nothing they did could change that. John closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting to push the dark thoughts away. The last thing he needed was to break down in front of Jim. “I bet it’s beautiful. And you didn’t answer my question.”

    “You didn’t give me a chance!” Jim responded earnestly.  “It’s not that large, but it’s a good-sized room.  Think ‘Sense and Sensibility’ at their original manor before they have to move to that small cottage.  Do you even know what I’m talking about?  And if you tell _anyone_ I have seen that movie, I will be forced to retaliate.  I’m thinking tickle torture.”

    John sighed and decided to let his question about Jim’s schedule go. After all, if he were free, he would have told John by then. He was coming back to London, after all. Wasn’t he? “Who would I tell? Do you think if I went down the street shouting ‘Jim Moriarty watches Sense and Sensibility!’ anyone would take me seriously? No, they’d think I was just some nutter trying to spread celebrity rumors. The Sun might pick it up, though, and photoshop you in bad Victorian dress…”

    With that, Jim burst out laughing.  “Oh, God, I can picture it, too!  Absolutely horrid.  Of course, no one would believe them either, so I suppose that there is that.”  He continued to giggle a bit longer before settling down.  “Maybe I should get into acting so they don’t have to photoshop anything.  What do you think?”

    “Acting’s more stressful than music, I bet, but you’d get more downtime. Except for promotions, parties, and auditions… You’d have to be more secretive than you already are, too. But you’d be good at it, I bet. There’s not much you can’t do.”

    A selfish part of John hoped Jim was joking. As an actor, he’d be far more visible and accessible to his fans. The paparazzi, already hungry, would be ravenous for information about his personal life. He’d never get a minute alone. Which, of course, meant he’d have no time for John, though it wasn’t as if he did _now._

Jim hummed.  “That being said, Magnussen’s not about to let me do anything but sing,” he pointed out, hoping to ease John’s all but stated concerns.  Even with the mildly bad mobile reception, he could hear the discomfort and near panic in John’s voice.  “I’m making way too much money for him to let me go.  And I would probably be absolute rubbish at acting.”

    “Yeah. Yeah, of course he’d want to keep you close. You’re his biggest act, after all. How’s the tour going, by the way?”

    It was a long shot, but he needed to know if there was still a chance to spend time with Jim while he recorded. If the tour was over, he might be able to come visit. Even if it was only for a day, John wanted to see him. As hot as the little texting trick Jim pulled was, it wasn’t enough. What John wanted was to _feel_ Jim, to hold him, to taste his lips and feel his nails scraping at his skin. If there was any chance of that happening, John needed to know.

    “Uh - fine!” Jim responded, avoiding the use of verbs.  He didn’t enjoy lying to John, so if he could weasel his way around the truth, he would.  “Magnussen and I are already discussing the new album.  You know that song I sang for you?  He hates it, but he said I might get away with it if I translated it into Gaelic.  People’ll sing along to anything these days, you know, even if they don’t know what’s being said.”

    “Are you still going to come back to see me, when it’s over?” John’s voice had gotten quiet. He hovered on the pavement outside of the bookstore, facing away from the door while he shifted from foot to foot. Honestly, he dreaded Jim’s answer. What if it was “No!”? John would be crushed. They hadn’t talked about their feelings since the night John got his mobile back, and he worried Jim didn’t feel the same as he had when London was fresh in his mind.

    “I believe so,” Jim replied.  “We’re still searching for a proper studio first.”  He tried to fight the need to tell John about everything.  In due time, John would understand but not yet.  “Magnussen’s looking into it, though, and so am I.  I’m not about to let him stand in my way.”  He hoped that this would serve as a reassurance.

    “Sure. Okay.” It was still a ‘maybe’ then. John was tired of hoping for news that seemed less and less likely to come. He ran a hand through his hair and turned back toward the shop.  “I should go. I’m about to go buy a new book. Don’t want to be rude to the cashier… I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

    “J-John!” Jim stammered out, shocked by the change of his tone.  They had just started talking, after all, and he didn’t want to lose him already.  “I thought you wanted to talk to me, though!  I thought… I thought you missed the sound of my voice!”  He was panicked by how quickly John wanted to end the conversation, and he was more than willing to guilt him to keep him on the line.

    “I do. I do want to talk to you, Jim. And I do miss the sound of your voice. I miss _all_ of you. And I know what’s going to happen. With the tour, with us, and it hurts. God, it feels horrible. You’re not going to come back to record. Even if you fight, Magnussen won’t let you. Talking about seeing your house, actually being around you… It’s not going to happen, is it? Every time I think I’m okay with it - every time I think this is enough - it hits me just how fragile this is. Our… Our relationship.”

   Was it even a relationship, or was it all in John’s head? He sighed again and covered his face with his hand. John was stronger than this, and he knew it. He just needed to pull himself together. Still, lying wouldn’t help. Jim needed to know exactly how John felt. “I love you, and I miss you, and I just want you to come back,” he whispered. “It’s impossible and selfish, and I _know_ that, but this hurts, Jim. It hurts, being without you and knowing that you’re probably just humoring me.”

    Jim’s heart broke as he heard that.  Once again, his selfishness was bringing pain upon John. Only this time, he knew that he could stop it.  Magnussen be damned.  He wasn’t going to let John hurt over this.  “Where are you right now?” Jim pressed.  “And by that, I mean I require an address.”

    John recited the name of the store and looked up at the numbers on the brick. He rattled off the address, walking a few feet toward the end of the block to read off the intersection. “I told you I was going to buy a book. Why?” Controlling the worry in his voice was nearly impossible.

    “Just… stay there, alright?” Jim pressed before covering the mobile before changing his destination.  The cabbie sighed before turning.  “Buy all the books you want, but stay there, alright?”

   “Alright,” John answered, heading inside the store. “Should I stay on the line?”

   “Not if you don’t want to,” Jim responded.  “You seemed pretty eager earlier to be rid of me.”

   “I’m _not_ eager to be rid of you!” John groaned. “Clearly, I’m feeling the opposite. I want to hear you; I want to see you; I want to touch you...” He found his way to the science fiction section easily enough and began to browse the books while he spoke. “I wasn’t rushing you off because I wanted to be done with you, I just - I’m upset because I miss you.”

   John seemed to be in a particularly stroppy mood now.  Sighing, Jim reclined in the seat.  Would this plan make anything better?  Or everything worse?  “Do you have a book that you want to buy in mind?” he inquired, feeling the need to divert the conversation.

   “No. I’m just browsing. I probably don’t have enough, after buying myself a snack, but I thought it couldn’t hurt to look. I’ve read all of mine over and over…” John’s fingers trailed down the spine of a new Star Trek novel. It looked interesting, but it was a few pounds outside of his range.

   “What sort of snack did you get?” Jim asked, hoping to buy some time.  They were almost there.

   “Just a scone and some coffee. I’m not much of a coffee drinker usually, but I needed the caffeine boost today. I didn’t sleep well.”

   The cab stopped outside of the bookstore, and Jim got out, still in full disguise.  He stepped into the store and saw John there, and his breath hitched.  Suddenly, he wasn’t sure anymore that he should do this.  After all, he didn’t know how John would react.  And then there was always the Hell that Magnussen would raise if he found out.

   “Still with me?” John asked offhandedly. The line seemed quiet, and he had the nagging fear that his attitude had pushed Jim away.

   “Yes, I suppose you could say that,” Jim murmured, keeping his voice down.  He took a step back towards the door.  This wasn’t a good idea.  After all, John was clearly fine, and he had made a promise.  If he started breaking them, Magnussen would stop believing him.  Then how could he ever get away with doing this again?

   “You suppose?” John tilted his head back and scrubbed his hand over his face. That was ominous, to say the least. He hated the sound of it. How would it feel to lose Jim now, after everything they’d been through? “Don’t do that. Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I spoke up. I upset you, and I didn’t mean to.”

    _I should have kept it to myself,_ John thought, pulling another Star Trek book from the shelf. He read over the synopsis and shook his head. The book sounded boring. Maybe if they had the Khan comics…

   “No, don’t say that.  You’re always allowed to speak your mind to me.  I would never want you to censor yourself because of my feelings.  I’m far older than you and can handle it.”  He continued keeping his voice low, not wanting to draw attention to himself.  As John examined the Khan comics, Jim couldn’t help but smile.  Sometimes, he forgot just how different they were..

   If he pooled all the cash on him, he could get two of the single issue comics. John carried them up to the counter and smiled at the cashier.  “I know. I know you like it when I’m open.” He chuckled at the double entendre and handed the cash over. “But this distance is hard enough without me making things worse. Talking about how much I miss you, how difficult it is when I can’t touch you, or see you… You don’t need to deal with that.”

   “You know, for someone who said he couldn’t afford to get anything, you sure are buying a lot,” Jim jested, trying to lighten the mood.  Unfortunately, he hadn’t thought it through.  Slapping a hand over his mouth, he froze where he stood.  He seriously fucked up this time.  How unfortunate.  

   John’s head snapped up, and he cast a quick look around, heart hammering in his chest. Jim had to be there. He _had_ to be! There was no other way he could have known!

   John was searching for him.  It probably wouldn’t take him long to figure out exactly which person in the bookstore was Jim Moriarty.  Quickly, Jim backed up only to bump into a shelf and knock a few books down.  He then bolted for the door.

   John glanced around in near a panic as a man rushed for the door. John decided to risk it. He grabbed his bag and ran out after him, calling for him to stop. “Wait!” he called. “Please, wait!”

   Jim turned the corner, hoping to lose John in the crowd.  The way John called out tore at his heart, but he had already spooked himself.  It was a moronic idea.  He couldn’t allow them to reunite, especially not like this.  Perhaps if he got away, he could come up with an excuse - something that only John would forgive.  That he hacked his phone camera perhaps?  Or that he hired someone to watch over him?  John would probably understand or even romanticise it.

   Keeping up with the man was nearly impossible, but John wasn’t about to give up. He lost sight of him in the crowd but kept heading in the last direction he saw him running toward. “Stop!” he shouted, shoving his way through the crowd. He wasn’t going to let Jim get away - if the man from the shop really _was_ Jim.

    Jim turned down a deserted alleyway in hopes of getting away.  Swallowing hard, he kept running.  After all, he didn’t know if John was close or far.  He could probably catch up without issue, which is why Jim needed to get somewhere crowded!

   John caught a glimpse of his scarf heading down a narrow alley, and he waded through the sea of afternoon shoppers to reach the entrance. A nasty stitch had worked its way into his stomach, and his breath burned in his lungs, but he couldn’t give up. If there was a chance to reach him, John had to take it.

   Jim could hear the footsteps behind him.  He was lucky that he worked out as often as he did, or he would have been winded long ago.  Suddenly, his foot caught on the uneven cobblestone, and he lurched forward.  Jim staggered and barely caught himself before falling forward.  Heart in throat, he tried to regain his lost momentum, knowing he just lost precious seconds.

   Ducking into the alley, John heard a stone clatter. It was his chance. Pushing himself past his limits, John took off. He was closing in now, drawing nearer to the man with the tourist cap. _From the café, too!_ Angered by the thought that he’d been followed, he came close enough to grab the sleeve of his coat. Once he had a hold, he tugged hard. “Stop!”

   Jim’s heart stopped when he felt the catch of his sleeve.  Immediately, he tried to pull away only to find John’s grip was too strong.  He couldn’t give up, though.  There was always still a chance that John might stumble or let him go.  Once more, he tried to pull away again, refusing to turn around.  Even with his features covered, he knew John would be able to recognise him now.

   John held tightly to him and yanked him back, pressing him against the brick wall.

   Jim could see the fire in John’s eyes.  Without a doubt, he was enraged.  But Jim was trapped now, and he merely braced himself for what was to come.

   With a steady hand, John pulled off his scarf and tossed it aside. The rest of the disguise would have to come off as well if he was going to be sure that this was Jim and not one of his employees.

   “Don’t,” Jim whispered, shying away from John’s hand.  There was still time for them to go back to their previous relationship.  John could remain in blissful ignorance.  Swallowing hard, he felt his heart leap back up to his throat.  “Don’t.”

   John stared at him a minute, arms up defensively, pleading with him to stop. _I know that voice._ There was no going back, not from this. John tore off this sunglasses and found himself staring up unto Jim’s dark amber eyes. “ _You,”_ he snarled. “I fucking _knew_ it.”


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Jim's secret is out, how will John react? What will happen to the relationship they've been trying to nurture?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter doesn't end on a cliffhanger. :D
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with us, we've only got a few more to go! Remember, share this if you enjoy it, write up a little review, do whatever you can to get it some more attention. We're pouring our blood, sweat, and literal tears into this, and it's getting rougher to work as the plot winds down. Every little bit of encouragement helps! 
> 
> Thank you so, so so much! xxx

    “John, please-” Jim began to plead.  It was like their final moments together all over again.  Cold and hard, John’s eyes bore into his soul.  He swore he would never see that look again, and now he was staring at it.

    “Tour going well, is it?” John spat, shoving him backward again. “Can’t be bothered to fucking tell me you’re in London, leading me on with ‘maybe’s and ‘if Magnussen lets me’s. God dammit, Jim! All this time? How long? How long have you been back? And you were just going to - what? - fucking spy on me while telling me you couldn’t visit?” Tears filled his eyes as he glared up at Jim.

    “I couldn’t tell you!” he exclaimed, wanting nothing more than to keep those tears from falling.  He wouldn’t be able to handle making John cry.  “When I asked to come back to London, it was on the sole condition that I didn’t tell you.  I tried the best I could to keep from lying, but it’s hardly my fault you don’t pay attention to my tour dates!”

    “Don’t you _dare_ try to tell me it’s my own fault! Do you know why I didn’t follow your bloody tour dates? Because I didn’t want to find the last date and watch it fucking go by without any word of you returning! Oh, and because I didn’t think I needed to worry about you _lying_ to me!” John gripped him by the lapels and pressed against him. “I bet it’s easy to pass it all off on Magnussen, isn’t it? You fucking _bastard,”_ John growled, looking up at him a moment.

    He didn’t want to reunite like this. He didn’t want Jim to lie to him, or hide from him, or look at him as if he were something out of reach. What John wanted, above all else, was to be held close - as if he mattered. As if Jim really _had_ missed him. He only hesitated for a moment before kissing Jim hard. All his fury at finding Jim so close with no intention of approaching him was passed through the rough contact. Coupled with it, however, was all the longing, all the desperation for even the barest form of contact. John _ached_ for the closeness - for _Jim -_ and he couldn’t restrain himself.

    Jim moaned against John’s lips before kissing back just as passionately.  He had missed this.  He dreamt of this so many times, and it was so much sweeter than he remembered.  Tangling his fingers in John’s hair, he licked his way into John’s mouth and explored it once more.  The taste had changed, but Jim didn’t care.  Finally, they were back together, and he just wanted to enjoy himself for a moment.  Even if they had to part soon after, he just wanted this time with John.  “I missed you,” he whispered against John’s lips.

    “I missed you too, you complete and utter prick,” John huffed in reply, running his hands down along the front of Jim’s coat. It wasn’t enough, not _nearly_ enough to satisfy him, but he was terrified that the slightest change would cost him the contact. If he moved, Jim might just disappear. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Don’t get that close without telling me. I need you, and God knows how long you were right here.” With a choked sob, John threw his arms around Jim’s neck and pulled him into another kiss. This one was softer, sweeter, but the desperation remained.

   “I honestly don’t think you do,” Jim confessed between their sweeter kisses.  “At the rugby pitch, you were so happy.  You were smiling and laughing with your friends.”  He paused a moment, debating on whether or not to talk about Mike.  After a moment, he decided against it.  He would weasel John away from Mike at a different time.  “And when you were at the café, you were so peaceful and content while reading your book.  I’ve seen for myself that you _don’t_ need me.”  He paused a moment before averting his eyes.  “And that’s alright.”  Swallowing hard, he tried to keep his emotions under control.

    “Shut the fuck up, Jim,” John whispered. He pulled back and looked up at him, more hurt in his eyes than before. “How dare you? God, you _cock!_ You have a life outside of me - a bloody good one at that - and only _once_ have I let it get to me - that night you dialed me and that fucking girl was throwing herself at your feet. And even then, I didn’t tell you that you didn’t _really_ love me because you were touring and girls were flirting with you. I’d been locked in my house for bloody _weeks_ , of course I was happy to be out! So don’t you _dare_ tell me I don’t need you. Look at me. No, God dammit, _look at me._ ”

    Slowly, Jim forced himself to meet John’s gaze.  He could see the passion burning there as John glared up at him. The blue of his irises seemed brighter, even through the anger, and there was pain etched into his features, softened only by the presence of the man he loved.

    “I have been suffering more than you could possibly imagine, with only the thought of you keeping me going. I love you, and you dare to tell me - after stalking me for God knows how long - that I don’t need you? You are the one good thing in my life. The one thing I’ve been looking forward to. Yes, I need you, Jim, and don’t you fucking _dare_ say otherwise. You don’t get to lock me in a tower while you tour the fucking world, just like I can’t lock you in a tower until I finish uni. I love you, and I’d do anything for you, but guilt-tripping me for seeing my friends? Jim, that’s not good in the slightest. I’ve been nothing but loyal to you, despite the fact I know people are falling all over themselves to fuck you. But you know what? I haven’t gone out on dates. I haven’t called any of the girls I know. I have done _nothing_ but cling to my phone and pray you’d grace me with your time. You are the most important person in my life, so don’t you stand there and tell me you’re not.”

    Jim flushed with shame.  He grabbed John and pulled him into a tight embrace before burying his face into his neck.  Today, it seemed, was not the day that he would be able to keep John all to himself.  However, he was slowly weaving a web around him, and John would soon be his in every way.  “I’m sorry.  I wasn’t - No, I was.  I was.  I just-  When I saw you with them, and you were laughing and smiling and so very happy, I got jealous.  I don’t-  I’ve never-”  He was infuriated with himself for being unable to articulate what he wanted.  How could he possibly convey everything, though?  “I haven’t had friends in years now.  You’re all I have besides Magnussen, who doesn’t really count, and so when I saw your life without me, I became terrified that you would stop wanting me.  Who really needs _me_ in their life, after all?  I have seemed to bring you nothing but trouble and unhappiness from the very start.”

    John never expected to see Jim looking so broken, so thoroughly _lost_. Despite how angry he was, John wrapped his arms around his back and held him tightly. Everything was spiralling out of control, and he knew that some brick alley in the middle of London wasn’t the place to be having this conversation. Someone might wander by.

    As he wrapped his arms around John in return, Jim knew he shouldn’t have allowed it to go this far.  He should have given John two nights and then sent him home without another thought, just like every other person he had ever been with.  Of course, he had been incapable of doing that.  He hated himself for not being able to stay away.  He couldn’t leave John in peace to have the rest of his life.  Until this very moment, he had been acting for entirely selfish reasons.  He couldn’t help it, though.  He wanted John more than anything else in the world.  “John, do you ever feel like you’ve got cancer?  Or, more so, that you are cancer?  Because that’s exactly how I feel.  I sometimes think I _am_ cancer.  I’ve never told that to anyone before, so don’t tell anyone, alright?  But I am cancer in your life, and you should - need to, really - get rid of me.”

    “Jim,” he said softly. “Where are you staying? We need to talk about this, but this isn’t exactly a safe place to do that. I don’t think you’re cancer, and I’m _not_ getting rid of you. Not for anything. We’re going to be fine, alright? We just need to talk - to properly talk - somewhere more private.”

    Jim swallowed hard.  “I-”  He shouldn’t take John back to his hotel room.  After all, he didn’t know what might happen if he did, but he highly doubted that it would be talking.  But John was right.  They _couldn’t_ talk out here.  Reaching down, he scooped up his cap and sunglasses.  “Follow me,” he murmured before picking up his scarf and wrapping it around John’s neck.  Somehow, he felt better to see John wearing his clothes.  “Stay back a ways in case I am spotted.”

    “I can handle that,” John said, covering part of his face with the soft scarf. Even though they were just going to talk, the thrill the risk carried with it brought a smile to his lips. It was exhilarating. “Lead on, then.” Part of him, of course, hoped that talking led to other things. It was selfish, and he knew that, but having Jim so close presented a wealth of opportunities.

    Jim headed out of the alleyway and turned the corner.  He walked slower this time, weaving in and out of the crowds, and always kept one eye on John to ensure that he didn’t get lost.  After walking for about thirty minutes, he turned and entered his hotel - an inconspicuous little place just across from Kensington Gardens.  Arriving at the lift, he waited for John to catch up with him.

    Keeping track of Jim was far easier this time, John found. The slower pace helped, and if he fell too far behind, Jim would pause in front of a shop to let him catch up. However, the pain in his side wasn’t fading. As such, their walk took a little longer than it should have. When they finally reached the hotel he slipped into the lift beside Jim, still hiding his face.

    Jim hit the proper button.  With a sigh, he leaned back against the wall and waited as they went up.  They reached his floor, and he walked down to his suite.  Opening the door, he headed inside without waiting for John, merely leaving the door open behind him.  He removed his cap and sunglasses.  “We’re here.”  Looking back at John, he examined him carefully.  He had walked with a slight stutter in his steps, and his posture wasn’t normal.  “Where do you hurt?”

    John closed the door behind him and unwrapped the scarf. With every step he took toward Jim, it became harder to think. They were there to work through whatever fears Jim had about their situation, but part of him wanted more. “My side. I just… Well, you’re a hard man to keep pace with,” John joked. “I’ll be fine as soon as I catch my breath - though I might need to sit down for a few.” He took a seat on the sofa and looked up at Jim expectantly.

    Jim swallowed hard, trying to figure out what to do.  Heading over to the mini-bar, he grabbed a bag and filled it with ice before bringing it to John.  He knelt down and pressed it against John’s side.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered before hiding his face with his hands.

    “It’s fine,” John said, keeping his voice gentle. One hand covered the ice pack while the other pulled Jim’s down. John peeked at his face and offered him a small smile. “Don’t hide, Daddy. Not from me. Not after all this.”

    Jim moaned softly when he heard that.  “Johnny,” he whispered, letting his hands drop.  He leaned forward and kissed him.  Immediately, he licked into John’s mouth and pressed him back against the sofa.  “Oh, Johnny, how I have missed you.”  He kept his lips attached even as he spoke, not wanting to break away from him for a second.

    John knew he should have seen it coming. The two of them, apart for so long, in a hotel. Still, it caught him off guard in a rather spectacular way. He linked his wrists behind Jim’s neck and kissed him back, parting his lips immediately. So many nights he had lay awake, remembering the feel of Jim’s lips against his skin. And now, it felt like breathing for the first time. Familiar, if tinted with desperation, Jim’s kiss sent fire coursing through his veins. It was hard to remember why he’d been so angry while Jim’s hands roamed over his body. After all, they could always talk afterwards. It wasn’t as if they were going anywhere any time soon.

    “Just in case you thought you were being clever, I knew you were lying to me this whole time,” a voice suddenly called out.  “I let you get away with that pathetic forlorn watching because it didn’t technically break our agreement.”

    Jim jolted, turning to find Magnussen standing behind them. “You’ve been following me.”

    “I prefer the term ‘tracking.’  Much like you did Mr Watson here via his mobile,” Magnussen stated before turning his gaze over to John.  “I knew you couldn’t keep yourself away from him.  Honestly, I’m shocked you lasted this long.”

    “We needed to talk.”

    Chuckling, Magnussen commented, “Yes, that’s _obviously_ what you two were doing.”

    “You should leave.”

    Magnussen frowned.  “No.  I’ve come here to talk to John.”

    “Oh, have you now?” Jim inquired, rising to his feet and effectively blocking John from Magnussen’s view.  “Well, he’s busy.”

    “John, we need to talk,” Magnussen stated firmly.

    _Stupid, bloody stupid!_ John cursed himself as he straightened his shirt. He should have known Magnussen would be close by - there was no reason for him to let Jim go off on his own, not when he was so worried about John and the impact he’d have on Jim’s career. The last thing John wanted was a lecture from Magnussen. He had a way of getting under people’s skin and making them feel worthless, and after the fight with Jim in the alley, he didn’t want to be broken apart by Magnussen’s cruel words.

    But what choice did he have?

    “I- Um... Okay,” he said softly, forcing himself to meet Magnussen’s eyes.

    “Do you understand what you are doing to him?” Magnussen inquired.

    Jim snarled, “Leave him alone.  I’m an adult making adult decisions.”

    “No, you’re not.  You’re an adult making childish decisions.  If there’s anyone here whom I can actually talk sense into, it’s John,” Magnussen retorted.  “He doesn’t understand the extent of the damage that will be caused should you two pursue this relationship.”

    “I know what I’m doing!” Jim shouted, angry that Magnussen would take John away from him like that.  “ _I_ know the risks and consequences, and I’m not about to let _you_ ruin everything.  John loves me, and I h-”

    “Oh, stop it with your ‘star-crossed lovers’ and ‘romance for the ages’ fantasy,” Magnussen snapped, his voice still at a controlled level.  “You’ve always love to romanticise everything.  If I had known it would go this far, though, I would have never given you as much leeway as I did.”

    “I’m not romanticising anything!” Jim shouted, his anger at a boiling point.  “You just can’t stand me having anyone in my life!  You and your busy schedule are the reason I’ve lost all of my friends, and now you’re going to take John, too?  No!  I won’t have it!”

    Standing forgotten behind Jim, John’s posture changed quickly. As Jim raised his voice, his shoulders began to slump. John cast his eyes down toward the ground and shrank, drawing in upon himself. He leaned away from the argument, from Jim’s shouting, and turned his face away. It was instinct. He made himself less of a target in case the shouting turned to blows. After all, it was entirely his fault. He’d done this. Somehow, he’d ruined Jim’s life simply by existing. Everything was falling apart around them, and it was John’s doing. He’d had the gall to think Jim could be with him, and now it was being thrown in his face. He’d ruined everything. Hadn’t his father always said that his only talent was fucking things up?

    “I’m sorry,” he whispered, wishing he could disappear from the room entirely. “I’m so sorry…”

    “Jim, I would stop if I were you,” Magnussen stated.

    “No, I won’t!  I’m fucking fed up with tolerating all this shit,” Jim screamed.  “And I’m fed up with letting you control every aspect of my life!  I am putting my foot down with this one.  You’re _not_ taking John, no matter what you say!”

    Magnussen looked at him in the eyes.  The gaze pierced through him, causing him to pause.  After all their time together, he knew that look.  Something was wrong.  “Turn around, bright eyes,” he stated, twirling his finger.

    With that, Jim looked back at John, and he was shocked by what he saw.  John was shrunken up, turned away, and minimising his presence.  Swallowing hard, Jim raised a hand to reach out to him.  “Johnny?”

    John flinched away from his hand. He didn’t want to be struck. He hadn’t done anything bad enough to warrant being hit! “Please, no, I’m sorry! Don’t- don’t hit me.” He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pressed against the sofa. Self-preservation was wired into him from all the fights with his drunken father. When Richard Watson screamed, John made himself small and muttered apologies until he went away - with the exception of the one time John stood up for himself, of course. Usually, it worked. Somehow, though, it was drawing _more_ attention to him this time.

    “Oh, my God,” Jim whispered before dropping his hand to his side.  Neither of them needed any words to know what was happening.  John had minimised himself as a threat and curled into a defensive position in order to protect his vital organs.  When Jim raised his hand, John had flinched, turning his head away in order to take it from view and force the blow to land somewhere else.  By the way his back was curved, Jim could guess where he took most of his strikes.  And he was entirely at a loss as to what he should do.  After the way John had reacted - the fear so evident and Jim the cause - he didn’t know if he _could_ help.  “Magnussen!” he called out instinctively.

    “I know,” he stated before stepping forward.  In a calm voice, he said, “John, listen to me.  The danger has passed.  You are safe.  Do you understand?  No one here is going to hurt you, and the arguing is over.”

    Was it? The shouting had stopped, certainly, but that wasn’t always the clearest sign. Yelling could happen again at any moment, and silence… More often than not, silence was a terrible omen. Slowly, John turned his head toward Jim and his manager, still keeping himself hunched. “O-oh… Okay. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m so sorry.”

    His breathing was still a little too fast, and he hadn’t straightened himself up, but he felt a little less like he was in danger. John kept repeating his apologies as Jim and Magnussen stared at him. “Jim, slowly open your arms.   _Slowly_ ,” Magnussen ordered underneath his breath.

    Jim swallowed before moving so painfully slow that it looked ridiculous.  However, he knew that Magnussen gave him that order for a reason.  It was only after they were open that he realised how he looked.  “Oh,” he whispered to himself.

    “John, look at Jim.  He’s not a threat.  He just wants a hug and to make you feel better.  When you feel ready, give him a hug.”

    At Magnussen’s quiet reassurance, John inched closer to him. Jim, of course, would never physically hurt him. His words might cut and sting, but he’d never raise a hand to him. John wrapped his arms around Jim’s waist and let his head rest on Jim’s shoulder. It was nice, being held. His panicked breathing slowed to a more manageable rate as he stood in Jim’s embrace. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin everything! I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” he mumbled, fighting back tears. “You were right. _Magnussen_ was right. You shouldn’t have come. I’m just trouble, and I’m just making it worse… I always do…”

    Jim carefully wrapped John up in his arms.  “You didn’t ruin anything,” he whispered before kissing the top of Jim’s head.  “You aren’t making anything worse.  And you’re no trouble at all.”  With that, he tightened his grip on John.  How could he have not noticed?  “Oh, Johnny.”

    “I will leave you two.  I have work to do,” Magnussen stated.  “When he’s calmed down enough, call me.  Understand?”

    Immediately, Jim comprehended everything, and he remembered exactly why he cherished Magnussen as his manager.  “I understand.   _Tschao._ ”

    “Goodbye.”  With that, Magnussen headed out the door.

    “I am, though,” John whispered. “I could ruin your career. I’m a distraction. I’m nothing. I’m not worth throwing everything away for. You need to be careful! You don’t need a stupid boy that you have to keep secret...” With his face buried in Jim’s shoulder, he hadn’t even realized Magnussen had left. He wanted to melt into the floor and leave Jim to continue on. After all, he had no shortage of options for partners, and _anything_ was better than him. What Jim deserved was someone brilliant, and beautiful, and his own age - not someone like John.

   “John Watson, I love you,” Jim whispered in his ear.  “I can’t stay away from you, no matter how hard I try.  I didn’t make it in London 24 hours before locating you.  For fuck’s sake, I hacked into your bloody mobile in order to get your coordinates!  I don’t want to let you go, and - what’s more - I _can’t_.  So please don’t make me.  Don’t ask me to leave you alone, especially not now.”  With that, he kissed the top of John’s head.  “I need you.  Magnussen doesn’t understand yet, and I don’t think you do either, but you will.  You’ll understand someday if you just give me a chance to show you.”

    “I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t want to leave you either. God, I want anything but. I want _you_ , Jim. I love you so fucking much, and it’s - I’ll let you show me. I will. I promise.” John closed his eyes and clung to Jim’s chest. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to be falling apart. Especially not in front of Jim.

    “Thank fuck for that,” Jim murmured.  Even so, he could tell John wasn’t feeling better yet.  “Come here.  Daddy’s going to take care of you.”  He lifted John up enough to carry him over to his bed and pulled him close.  “Daddy’s got you now, Johnny-boy.”  With that, he ran his fingers through John’s hair soothingly.

    Beneath the covers and wrapped in Jim’s arms, John let out a soft sigh. He rested his head against Jim’s chest and just listened. Nothing, he thought, was as soothing as the rhythm of Jim’s heart. “I think I’m okay now,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to… I don’t like shouting.” It sounded lame to John, but he didn’t know how else to put it. “I really didn’t mean to get you in trouble, Daddy. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that he’d be tailing you.”

    “It’s alright,” Jim answered before kissing John affectionately.  “It doesn’t matter.  Now that we know, Magnussen won’t force you to leave.  He’s already calling our solicitors to figure out what we need to do in order to get you out of there with the least amount of legal trouble.”

   “Know? Now that you know what?” John propped his head up and frowned a little. “I… I don’t understand. What do you know, an-and how?” He couldn’t admit that he’d given away everything he’d tried so hard to hide. His moment of panic revealed his entire situation, but John refused to acknowledge it. It was still his secret, wasn’t it? His own burden to carry?

    Jim frowned.  “John,” he called out, staring at him.  “You know better than to believe what the tabloids say about me, yeah?  Do you know why I dropped out of uni?”  Running his fingers through John’s hair, he chuckled.  “It’s because I was bored.  I couldn’t imagine staying another month there, nonetheless another year.  And this was back when I was fourteen.”  He then caressed John’s side before shifting his hand to the small of his back.  “I’m not about to let the man I love return to an abusive household.”

    “Well, I don’t want to be a burden. I’ve got nowhere else to go. I could - I suppose - ask Harry to let me stay with her, but I can’t afford my own place, and you can’t have me tagging along. I mean, Magnussen already hates me enough as it is.”

    “Magnussen might be a hard-arse, but he’s not heartless.  Even if we parted ways now, he would ensure that you were out of there.”  He nuzzled John.  “As for where you’re going to stay, we can find somewhere without bothering your sister.  You’re mine, Johnny-boy, and Daddy will always provide for you.”

    “But we’re not, right? Parting ways?” John’s voice carried a fearful tremor as he tangled his legs with Jim’s. As much as he hated the idea of subsisting solely on Jim’s kindness, the thought of leaving his father’s household brought with it a glimmer of hope. No more beatings. No more fearing for his life. No more hiding who he was. If he was on his own, he would be free to be with Jim - in secret, naturally, until either Jim came out or John was of age.

    “No, we’re not.  If anything, we’re about to start our journey together,” Jim assured him.  He pressed in closer to John.  Then a dark thought crossed his mind.  What if John didn’t _want_ to stay with him?  What if he just wanted to be free of his father?  “How does that sound to you?”

    At his words, John managed a proper smile. “God, that-that’s perfect.” He leaned down and kissed Jim, closing his eyes as they threatened to water. “Absolutely perfect… I just want to be with you, in any way you’ll let me.”

    “I want the same thing,” Jim confessed.  “God, if I never had to leave you again, I would be thrilled.  I always want to wake up to find you in my arms.  I want to go to sleep with you next to me.  I don’t want to eat every meal alone anymore.  I want someone to talk to about anything and everything.  I want _you_ , Johnny.”

    John caressed his cheek, looking down at him through tear-filled eyes. “I want you too, Daddy. I want to be there after long shows and stressful interviews. I want to be there to bring a smile to your lips when your manager’s being a tyrant. I want to wake up with you and watch the sun shine on your skin, and I want to fall asleep in your arms every night.”

    Chuckling, Jim kissed both of John’s cheeks.  Far too much had happened today, and he was obviously capped out on emotions.  “Why don’t you get some sleep, Johnny-boy?” Jim pressed.  “Today’s been strenuous, and Daddy’ll be right here when you wake up.”

    Sleep sounded incredible, to be honest. The fight, both his and Jim’s, had drained him more than he ever thought possible. Still, John was afraid that Jim would disappear if he closed his eyes. He’d just gotten him back, after all. “Do you swear it? I don’t want to lose you again.”

    “You’re sleeping on top of me.  I doubt I could get away even if I wanted to,” he teased.

    John managed a giggle. “Fair enough. Goodnight, Jim. I love you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to Jim’s lips and settled down on his chest.

    “I love you, too,” Jim murmured.  He kissed John’s forehead before tightening his grip around him.  It felt so nice to have him back in his arms.  Somehow, Jim felt completed with John’s weight on top of him.  “Goodnight.”  Closing his eyes, he rested and listened to John breathe.  His fingers found John’s soft hair, and he combed through it repeatedly.  He hoped that it would help John relax.  After all, they would have plenty to discuss when John woke up.

   For a while, John slept easily. Curled against Jim, he felt safe. He felt like he was _home._ However, even with Jim’s warmth, the nightmares found him. Being triggered so thoroughly by Jim’s shouting earlier allowed darkness to creep into John’s sleeping mind.

     _“There you are, you little bastard.”_

 _John ran, tripping over his own two feet as he sought a place to hide. He needed to get away from his father while he could. Behind him, the sound of booted feet echoed off the hardwood floor. Somehow, he was everywhere,_ _threatening to overtake John at every turn_ _._

 _As he rounded the corner, tall doors lined the wall. John picked one at random, ducking inside_ _and slamming it shut_ _. Moans and grunts filled the room, but John paid the noises no mind as he crawled toward the closet. Movement in his peripheral vision drew his eye, though, and he turned his head to discover Jim kneeling on the bed with a girl. Her face was blank, pale skin, and her noises were muffled by the flesh_ _covering the space where her mouth should be._ _Her legs and arms wrapped around Jim like thick ropes, rubbing him raw where they touched_ _his skin_ _. He was lost in her, sucking at her throat as she bounced against his hips._

 _John crawled into the closet and_ _yanked_ _the door shut, covering his mouth to stifle his sobs. He hated the faceless monster-woman and his father’s lumbering gait. He hated being so terrified that all he could do was run. Everything was horrible, and all John wanted to do was disappear. While he crouched in the darkness, listening to the sound of skin sliding against skin, the footsteps halted outside the door._

**_BANG. BANG. BANG._ **

_One large fist collided with the wood door, sending it splintering inward. The woman-creature screeched in surprise._

_“Where the fuck is he?!”_

_Jim’s voice cut through him like a knife. “Have you tried looking in the closet? He sure spends a lot of time in there.”_

_Feeling betrayed, John pushed himself into the corner and cowered. Jim sold him out, and now John would pay…_

_With a creak, the door opened, and his father’s leering face appeared. “Did you really fucking think you could get away? That he’d help you? Think again, boy.”_

_As fingers tightened around his throat, John screamed._

At some point, Jim must have fallen asleep, because he woke to the sound of John crying out.  “Johnny!” he called out.  For a second time that day, he felt entirely helpless.  He wasn’t used to consoling people.  Hell, he wasn’t used to being around people for more than a day.  Holding John close, he tried petting his hair soothingly once again.

    John flinched as Jim’s hand caressed his hair. A low, anguished whimper slipped from his lips. He was shaking, trembling from head to toe in the grip of the nightmare.

    Obviously, that wasn’t helping.  Jim chewed on his lower lip.  Never before had he experienced such nightmares.  Thus, he had no idea what would wind up helping.  What would he have preferred?  He would probably want to be pulled out of the dream.  “John,” Jim called out softly, not wanting to scare him.  “John.  John.  John!”

     _In what felt like an act of mockery, Jim began to call John’s name. As his father hauled him from the closet by his throat, John turned his bulging eyes to the ‘Jim’ on the bed. Though his head was thrown back in what appeared to be ecstasy, John could read his expression for what it was: terror. Jim hated the creature’s embrace. Despite betraying his whereabouts, he was calling for John’s help. While his vision blackened, John reached for him._

_I’m sorry._

_I can’t help._

_I’m dying._

    With every whimper and whine John made, Jim knew he had failed.  Then he remembered their second night together.  He didn’t know if it would work, but it was worth a try.  Swallowing hard, he began to sing _Éiníní_ once more.

     _Even though he couldn’t escape the vise-like grip of his father, John fought. He fought for Jim, he fought for himself, and he fought for everything he knew he had to live for. As his other hand clawed at his father’s, Jim turned his face toward John and began to sing one final song just for him. The lullaby from the hotel._

    The song cut through his nightmare. John slowly blinked awake, trembling and sniffling in Jim’s arms. His face was wet with tears, and a cold sweat had started to dry on his skin. “J-Jim?” he asked, peeking up at him.

    “Yeah, it’s me,” Jim murmured.  He was so relieved that John was finally awake, despite the fact that he still looked distraught.  Kissing him, Jim couldn’t help but feel anger towards himself.  He was sure that his screaming earlier caused all of this to happen.  “You were having a bad dream.”

    As he kissed Jim back, John let out a quiet sob and wrapped his arm around Jim’s neck. “God, it was horrible!” In Jim’s warm embrace, some of the terror of the dream receded. Still, John could remember how it felt as his father strangled the life out of him, and the way the hideous creature clung to Jim. He could hear the sounds of Jim’s moans and smell the rot on his father’s breath. “I didn’t think I’d - I thought I wasn’t going to wake up.”

    “But you did.  It’s over now.  Daddy’s right here, and I’m going to keep you safe from _everything_.  Even the nightmares.”  With that, he kissed John’s temple, not knowing how else to comfort him.  He still felt terrible.  How had he missed the signs?  John hinted to it so many times when they were together.  The “punishments,” talking about being the “prince of avoidance,” his sudden black moods, his lack of desire to go back home, and small turns of phrase that screamed their significance now that Jim knew.  All those times when Jim felt something nagging at the back of his mind, and yet he had been blind.  He didn’t want to think something so horrid could happen to John and thus had ignored it.  “I’m so sorry.”

    Safe in Jim’s arms, John blinked away his tears and tried to get rid of the dream. Dwelling on it wouldn’t do him any good. Still, he wanted to talk about it. He wanted to Jim to know that it wasn’t his fault. “He was chasing me,” John whispered. “My father. Through halls that towered over me. I found a room, and I ran to hide in it. You were there with-” He sniffed and shook his head. How could he explain without it sounding horrible? “- a monster. Faceless and writhing. She had her arms around you. You - um - you seemed to like it at first. And when he - my father - came into the room, you told him where I was. He grabbed me by the throat and choked me. As I started to black out, you kept calling my name. It was like… you were scared. Everything I took for pleasure was just terror. And I couldn’t get to you.”

    “Oh, Johnny, it was just a bad dream,” Jim murmured.  He wanted to kiss away the pain and the fear the nightmare left in its wake.  Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed John’s lips.  He didn’t push at first, wanting to make sure John was alright with everything.  He didn’t feel any resistance.  Sucking on John’s lower lip, he hummed before begging for entrance.

    John kissed him back almost desperately, sliding his hands up through Jim’s dark hair. In the aftermath of the nightmare, he craved contact. A part of John _needed_ to know that Jim was real. The faceless woman was just a fiction of his paranoid mind. He let out a soft moan, more akin to a sob, as he parted his lips for Jim. _I can reach you now. I can reach you here. It was just a dream - just an awful dream. You wouldn’t do that to me, Jim._ John reassured himself as he tugged gently on Jim’s hair.

    Instantly, Jim lunged his tongue into John’s mouth, wanting to explore it thoroughly.  He then tangled his fingers into John’s hair before flipping him over.  “Daddy’s going to make you forget all about it,” he whispered before tugging at John’s trousers.  “What would you rather have?  Daddy’s mouth or arse?”

    Looking up at Jim, John dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and mulled over his words. He was offering John relief, release, and a distraction from the nightmare. Easing his fears might not be quite as simple as sex, but right then John didn’t care. Every atom in his body begged for Jim. He’d been without him for so long, even just the way he kissed left John whining and needy. “I… Arse, Daddy,” he whispered, an embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks.

    Jim chuckled.  “What a dirty boy,” he teased.  “I like it.”  With that, he fished out the lube and set it on the nightstand.  “Undress Daddy slowly.  Take your time.  And then you’re going to have to open me up.  It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone inside of me.”  With that, Jim rolled onto the bed and fell pliant, readying himself to become John’s puppet.

    As he positioned himself over Jim, John bent down and kissed along the curve of his jaw. Shaking hands dropped to lift the hem of his shirt, guiding it over his head. He took his time admiring the bare expanse of Jim chest, trailing his fingertips over his pale skin. “You’re beautiful,” John whispered, making his way down to unfasten his trousers. “You’re incredible, Jim. Every inch of you. You’re gorgeous, and you’re brilliant, and you’re talented… You are perfect.”

    “I’m glad you think so,” Jim replied, smiling.  Somehow, it actually _meant_ something when John said it.  There was an honest quality to his voice - an earnestness that couldn’t be faked - and a look of sincerity in his eyes.  He shifted his hips up, giving John the room to remove his trousers.

    Sliding them down over Jim’s hips, John shivered as his legs were exposed. There was scarcely anything between them save for Jim’s pants, and John’s fingers grazed over the cotton almost reverently. By giving himself to John, Jim was showing how much he trusted him and _loved_ him. Part of John was worried he’d fuck it up somehow. The last thing he wanted was to fall short of Jim’s expectations. He curled his fingers into the waistband and pulled the pants down as well. Reaching across the bed, John took the bottle of lubricant and clicked it open. “May I?”

    Jim felt the cold air nip at his skin, and goosebumps rippled down his arms and legs.  Shivering, he spread his legs and licked his lips.  Already, his heart was pounding in his ears.  It had been so long since the last time he allowed anyone to take him.  However, John was special.  Jim trusted him inherently.  “You may, but take it slow.  As I said before, it’s been a long time for me.”

    “I promise, I’ll go as slow as you need.” With that, John slicked his fingers and began to caress his muscle. While he pressed and rubbed, John lowered his head and sucked at Jim’s thighs. Raising a faint mark against his pale skin, his finger slowly pressed into him.

    “Don’t mark me,” Jim said, panicked.  He was so lost in the anticipation, and John’s mouth had been so soft and careful that he didn’t realise what he was doing at first.  The finger followed soon after, and he gasped.  “J-John!”  He tightened his arse around John’s finger, tensing as he felt it slip inside of him.

    John pulled back both his hand and his mouth, cursing himself mentally at Jim’s discomfort. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he breathed, giving him space. Somehow, he’d fucked up already. He should have asked Jim for permission. But he’d been so caught up in what they were doing that it hadn’t occurred to him that Jim might not be comfortable with that. “I should have asked first. I shouldn’t have assumed-”

    “Hey, now,” Jim cut in before pulling John down and kissing him passionately.  “I know you just got overeager.  To be honest, I would love it if you could mark me, and I’m already fond of that bruise.”  God, he hoped he hadn’t just mucked this all up.  “But I can’t become marked because part of my monetary value is my flawless body.  I have a photoshoot in a few days, and if anyone spots that…  Well, let’s just say that rumours might spread, and that wouldn’t be good for either of us.”  He paused for but a moment.  “Please don’t stop, though.  I’m aching for your touch, Johnny.  Please, don’t stop.”

    Surprised, John hummed against his lips. Knowing that it was because of work and not a line that John had crossed made him feel less like an arsehole. His concerns were, of course, entirely valid. Jim’s career hinged on the way his fans perceived him, and although the mark could be covered with makeup, nothing guaranteed the silence of the photographer or their staff. If his fans thought he was no longer single, it could affect his sales And if the rumor spread fast enough? Well, he’d never be able to get rid of the paparazzi. “Are you sure that I can keep going?” he asked, just to be safe.

    “John Watson, if you don’t get that thick cock of yours inside of me as soon as possible, I am going to go insane,” Jim informed him.  “I _need_ you inside of me.”

    Nothing John had ever heard was nearly as sexy as Jim’s vulgar pleading. Whimpering, John replaced his hand as he licked into Jim’s mouth. He kept his pace slow as he worked one finger inside of him, thumbing along the soft skin of his cheeks. “I will be,” he whispered. “I promise, Daddy. Just hold on.”

    Jim groaned against John’s lips.  “O-oh, Johnny!” he moaned out before tossing his head back and starting to move with John’s finger.  He wanted John to know for sure that he was sincere with his desire to be taken.  “More!”

    Though he was a little afraid Jim was acting overenthusiastic for his benefit, the sight of him spread out and needy drove John wild. He crooked his knuckle, working him open at a steady pace. “Tell me when,” he cooed. “I won’t add another until you’re ready.”

    Jim keened in need.  “When, John.  When, when, when, when, _when_!”

    With a grin, John pressed a second finger into him. Gently increasing his pace, he worked them deeper. Every sigh that slipped from Jim’s lips sent chills down his spine, and every groan of his name only made John want him more. “I’ve got you. Just tell me what you need - anything at all - and I’ll do it for you,” he cooed.

    Jim melted.  He hadn’t expected for John to be so confident, especially considering that Jim knew he was his first.  Suddenly, a thought struck him, and he went both still and quiet.  It was stupid, of course.  John loved him, and he wouldn’t do anything to betray him.  There was no way that _that_ could possibly be true.  “I can handle another one,” Jim stated, wanting to take his mind off things.

    He could _feel_ Jim pause, and John peeked up at him uneasily. Jim’s voice was soft and subdued, even though he was asking for more. Something about it didn’t feel quite right. “Are you sure? Is everything alright?” he asked, frowning.

    “Johnny, if you double-check every time I request something, we’re never going to get to the actual sex,” Jim teased.  He was still John’s first.  He was sure of it.  After all, John only wanted him.  “Everything is fine.  It could be better, though.  All you need to do is add another finger.”

    It was hard not to feel embarrassed by Jim’s remark. John was only trying to make sure he was alright, after all. His cheeks flushed in humiliation as he worked in a third finger, stretching Jim open. He didn’t want to look like a novice. What he wanted, more than anything, was to please Jim. Pumping his arm, John kissed him again and bit at his soft bottom lip. “I’ve never been with a man,” he whispered. “Not like this. I’ve had you, and you were my first, in so many ways.”

    Jim subconsciously relaxed when he heard that.  “You’re doing brilliantly,” he assured him before kissing him again.  Of course John hadn’t been with anyone else.  He was committed to Jim, after all.  Even so, nothing was going to keep Jim Moriarty from having even this aspect of John’s sex life.  It would be marked as _his_ , and anytime John thought about his first time, he would think about Jim.  “Just give it a minute longer, and then I’ll be ready.”

    What John didn’t say was that he _had_ been with women. Before Jim, of course - there had been no one after. Jim had relaxed when John had admitted his inexperience with men, though, and that let him know just what was running through his mind. Nothing would take this from him. John was giving himself over completely, in ways he couldn’t even articulate, and it was all for Jim. “Just tell me when you can,” he breathed, stroking the tips of his free fingers over Jim’s skin.

    Jim hummed happily and waited until he was certain.  “I must admit that you are the largest I’ve ever had, so you’re still going to have to take it a bit slow even with my experience,” he warned John before nodding.  “But I’m ready.”

    “I’m the biggest?” John asked with a smile. “That’s- Wow, that’s unbelievable.” He giggled softly and drew his hand back. As he slicked himself, he captured Jim’s lips once more. If that was true - if John _was_ the biggest he’d had - then John wanted to distract him from any potential pain. Humming against his lips, he guided himself into him inch by inch.

    Jim gasped against John’s lips before sucking on the lower one.  As John slipped into his body, he felt almost uncomfortably stretched.  However, John was moving slow enough that it didn’t cause any pain.  “F-fuck, you’re big!” he groaned out.

    “Sorry,” John whispered, ceasing the movement of his hips. “If it hurts too much, tell me. I can go slower.”

    Shaking his head, Jim said, “It doesn’t hurt, and you’re going the perfect speed.”  Once John finally was entirely inside of him, he moaned.  He felt filled in a way that he never had before, and he loved it.  “Oh, fucking Hell.  I almost feel bad that we didn’t do this sooner.”

    To give Jim time to adjust, John slid one hand up his chest and brushed the pads of his fingers over Jim’s nipples. He kissed along Jim’s jaw, gently rubbing against his stubble. “Oh, fuck,” he whimpered. “Y-yes, we should have. Tell me when I can move, Daddy.”

    “You’ve got such good self-control,” Jim crooned.  He reached down and gripped John’s arse before kneading it, spreading the cheeks teasingly.  “You can move, but be slow, alright?  Daddy’s still getting used to your size.”

    The touch sent chills down John’s spine. He loved the heat of his palms against his skin and the way Jim’s fingers dug into his muscle. At Jim’s behest, he started to rock, drawing his hips back and pressing forward at a painfully slow pace. Jim was right - he had plenty of self control - but he was barely holding onto it. After so long, it was hard to restrain himself. But John didn’t want to hurt him in any way.

    It took some time, but Jim eventually became used to the sensation of John inside of him.  He was still as full as ever, but it was no longer uncomfortable to feel John slide entirely inside of him.  Besides, after all of this waiting, he sure as Hell wasn’t going to wait any longer than necessary.  John’s full virginity was at his fingertips to possess, and he wouldn’t let it slip away now.  “Thank you, Johnny-boy,” he murmured before gripping his arse hard.  “But now is the time for you to let loose.  I can take it, so give me everything you’ve got.”

    If Jim didn’t want him to hold back, he wouldn’t. Moaning as Jim squeezed tighter, John began to buck harder. He wrapped one arm around Jim’s waist and buried himself inside of him. “E-everything?” He asked, kissing him roughly. “Sure you can take it?”

    “You bet your sweet arse I can,” Jim teased before kissing him back harder.  “And if you think you can prove me wrong, you should go for it.  Give me a run for my money.  But I’m telling you that I can take whatever you have to give me, Johnny.  So just let it all go.”  He meant more than just the sexual frustration.  He meant everything - all of the pain and grief and anger - should John desire.  Whatever John gave him, he would take it.  It was the least he could do.

     _Permission_. Jim was giving him permission for more than just physical release. Blinking away the heat that rose in his eyes, John nodded his understanding. He could do that. He could let go, without hurting Jim - or so he hoped.

    With a groan, John began to thrust harder. The bed creaked beneath them as he wrapped his hand around one of the slats of the headboard. John kissed Jim again as he picked up his pace, slamming into him with fluid motions. His muscles rippled as his body curved, arching with every snap of his hips.

    “Th-that’s it, Johnny!” Jim cried out.  Tossing his head back, he groaned as John finally began to fuck him.  He knew that John was strong, but he was still awed.  Keening, he wrapped his legs around John’s waist before tilting his hips.  He knew the exact angle required.  As soon as John’s cock nudged his prostate, he let out a scream of ecstasy.  “Yes!  Yes, just like that!” he cried out.  “Fuck me, Johnny!”

    Jim’s cries only urged him on. Panting and growling, he kept thrusting into him as hard as he could. “God, yes! Mmn, Jim… You feel fucking incredible,” he growled, listening to the headboard bounce against the wall. John dropped one free hand and slid it up Jim’s leg, squeezing his thigh.

    Instantly, Jim leaned forward and kissed John.  He swallowed every growl eagerly as his body shook with the thrusts.  “Hmm, Johnny,” he moaned out, breaking the kiss.  He could feel himself getting close to his orgasm.  “You know just how to fuck me.”  He let out a sharp cry when John nailed his prostate just right, and he reached down to stroke himself.  Just a few strokes, and he would be screaming.  “Do you want to watch Daddy come, Johnny-boy?”

    “Y-yes. Fuck, yes, I do, Daddy,” John breathed, leaning back enough to watch Jim’s hand slide along his length. The sight of him sweating, coming undone just because of _John_ , took his breath away. Close himself, John kept thrusting, watching Jim’s body rock. “Come for me, Daddy. Please. Show me that I can please you. Show me how good I make you feel…”

    Jim grunted.  It only took a few strokes before he went rigid.  Arching, he cried outas his cock pulsed in his hand.  “J-John!” he moaned, barely able to stroke himself as his body was overwhelmed with the pleasure.  For a moment, his mind went entirely blank.  His eyes were shut, blocking out all visual stimulation.  His mouth had dropped open.  Toes curling, he abruptly bucked.  “Oh, John!”

    John drank in the sight of him falling apart against the sheets. With his hair mussed by the pillow and his stomach coated in his release, Jim was the perfect vision of hedonistic pleasure. Gasping and breathing hard, John buried himself inside of Jim. With a strangled cry of his name, John spilled into him, trembling as he sank forward to kiss Jim again.

    Jim hummed happily before kissing him back.  “That was wonderful,” he whispered fondly, running his fingers through John’s hair.  He looked so gorgeous in post-coital bliss.  It was hard to believe that Jim had ever gone a day without seeing John in this state.

    John sank down on top of him, cooing at the tender touch. “Yes, it was,” he replied, gently pulling his hips back. “You are absolutely amazing. Have I told you that lately? Beautiful, and sweet, and so good to me.” John buried his face in Jim’s neck and laced their fingers together. “I love you so much, Jim.”

    “I love you, too, Johnny,” Jim murmured.  “But I’m sweaty and sticky and covered in way too many liquids.”  He smiled against John’s skin.  “Which means I need to shower.  But that doesn’t mean I have to shower alone…”

    “I can come with you?” It was something John had wanted to do since their first evening together - watch the water roll down his marble skin, run his soapy hands up his stomach, tangle his fingers in his wet hair. And now, Jim was offering him the chance.

    “I would love for you to,” Jim murmured, grinning up at him.  He still couldn’t believe that John was _his_ now.  There was no way whatsoever that he was going to let him go, not even if Magnussen himself tried to tear them apart.  He could find another manager, but he knew he would never find another John.

    “Thank you, Daddy,” John cooed. Using the headboard for support, he slid off Jim and climbed out of the bed. “Almost a shame you’ll be getting cleaned up,” he chuckled, running a finger through the mess on Jim’s stomach and licking it clean. “I kind of like you like this.”

    Jim groaned, not having expected for John to do something that erotic.  “You dirty boy!  If you don’t get in the shower right now, Daddy’s going to give you a good spanking,” he joked before slowly sitting up.  His arse complained about the movement, sore from being fucked so thoroughly.

    “Not much of a threat, considering how much I love it when you do,” John answered. He bent down and offered Jim a hand. After all, he hadn’t expected to leave him in pain. “Let me help. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

    Accepting his offered hand, Jim groaned as he slowly forced himself to his feet.  “Don’t even apologise.  You gave me a run for my money to be sure, Johnny.  Good on you.”

    “You told me not to hold back.” John led him to what he assumed was the bathroom and opened the door. He made sure Jim entered first and pulled the door closed behind them. Set off in the far right corner, the shower was encased with clear glass and was certainly large enough for both of them. The bathroom itself was big enough to house both the shower and a bathtub with jets as well as the sink and toilet. John whistled as he took a look around. “And where are the towels?” he called.

    “Do you not look up?  They’re on top of the shelf above the toilet,” Jim responded, grinning.  Honestly, he knew he would never get over John’s expression when looking at expensive items.  When Jim finally got to take John home, he wouldn’t look anywhere else but John’s face.  “Do you like it?”

    Standing on his toes, John managed to pull down two towels and set them on the counter. “Like” wasn’t strong enough to describe how he felt about the bathroom. It was beautiful, for one, and luxurious, and decadent, and more large words that his blissful brain couldn’t muster. “I love it,” he assured Jim. “It gives me ideas.” With that, he slid open the door of the shower and stepped inside, beckoning for Jim to follow.

    “Oh?” Jim pressed before following him into the shower.  “Such as?”

    “Lots of surfaces. Lots of places you could have me. The bath, the counter, against the glass… Can you imagine it? All steamy, just a handprint against the door…”

    Jim chuckled before nipping at John’s neck.  “I’ve got a greedy boy, don’t I?  You just had one orgasm, and you’re already thinking about more.”

    Shivering, John let out a soft moan. “Well, I haven’t had many since we parted, and the ones I had were boring and lonely. Of course I’d think about more with you.” Thinking of Jim claiming him on every inch of the lavish bathroom also kept him from thinking about the nightmare, but John didn’t feel like volunteering that information.

    Jim didn’t need for John to say it to know what he was doing.  Turning on the water, he stood in front of the spray until it was the proper temperature.  Then he grabbed the rag and the shower soap.  “May I wash you?” he pressed, wanting to make sure that John was actually alright.  After all, the scars from the last beating had yet to entirely heal.  They were just another sign that Jim should have noticed.

    “I-” John peeked up at him, staring as the water as it dampened Jim’s skin. “You want to? Um, yes, god, go ahead. No one’s ever - um - wanted to before. N-not that I’ve showered with anyone before, outside of the locker room.” He knew that Jim could see the marks of his father’s latest abuse, and it turned him shy. The scars and yellowed skin were disgusting.

    Jim ensured the rag had plenty of soap suds before bringing it against John’s skin.  Carefully, he let it glide across every orifice.  He lifted up John’s arms and spread his legs.  He allowed it to slip down his legs and slide across his chest.  As the minutes ticked by, Jim tended to every aspect of John’s being, as if he could erase every cruel mark with a kind one.  He examined every single mark left, deducing how it was made, how hard the belt must have it, how long it must have bled, how long it took to heal, and how old the marks were.  With every deduction, Jim felt his blood boil.

    There was something sensual about the way Jim washed him. It felt akin to a worship ritual. He was clearly taking his time, whether memorizing John’s body or simply enjoying the way he cooed as the rag moved over his skin. John closed his eyes as Jim touched him, losing himself in the contact. His fears about his body were easy to ignore under Jim’s care.

    Finally, Jim reached John’s back.  He swallowed hard before pressing John against the door.  “The first time we have sex in here,” he explained, carefully washing John’s shoulders, “I’m going to take you right here.  You’re going to brace yourself off the door and spread your arse for me like the good boy you are.”  Then his hands dipped down and began to wash the small of John’s back.  So far, he avoided all of the scars.  “I’m going to take you teasingly slow until you beg me to go faster.  Then once I’ve decided that you’ve pleaded enough, I will start to move faster.”  With that, he shifted up and washed around the first mark.  “But I still won’t move fast enough to satisfy you.  You’ll be a good boy, though, and keep your hands on the shower door.  Only Daddy will be able to touch your cock this time.”  Finally, Jim washed the first scar.

    With his hands splayed against the glass and Jim purring filthy promises behind him, John didn’t spare the marks on his skin another thought. Even as the rag made contact with the scars, he was too invested in picturing Jim’s fantasy to shrink back or jerk away. John moaned and ducked his head, trying to ignore the heat rising in his gut. “Oh, fuck… Yes, please, Daddy…”

    Jim relaxed when he noticed that he had effectively distracted John.  Humming, he kissed up John’s neck and began to clean the next one.  “Where do you want our second time in here to occur?  Bathtub or against the sink and looking into the mirror?”

    “Looking into the mirror,” John whispered. “I want to watch.”

    Humming happily, Jim kissed the back of John’s head.  “I would love to watch you watch, too,” he murmured before cleaning the third mark.  He nipped at John’s lobe and pressed in close.  “Can you picture it?  Me and you - pressed up against the sink - me watching you, and you watching yourself.  It would be beautiful.”

    John shuddered. “Oh, yes. Only I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off you.” His own were currently closed as he summoned the image in his mind. Jim with one fist in his hair, wrenching his head back and commanding him to keep his eyes open and watch. Letting out another low whine, he pressed right back against Jim.

    Jim smiled before finishing up his washing of John’s back.  “You’re all done,” he murmured before removing the rag and placing it under the spray.  “That is, unless you want me to shampoo your hair as well.”

    Grateful for the mouth-watering distraction, John turned around to face Jim properly. “Well, if you’re not against it, I’m certainly not going to object.” After all, it was nice to be pampered for once.

    “Lazy,” Jim teased before kissing John’s forehead.  He grabbed the shampoo bottle, squirted some into his hands, and began to massage it into John’s scalp and hair.  After a couple moments of silence, he pressed, “How’re you feeling?”

    As Jim’s fingers caressed his scalp, John wrapped his arms around his waist. “It’s not lazy if I make you the same offer,” he replied, “and I am feeling much better. I’m sorry about... I didn’t mean to freak out. Yelling just - um - I don’t respond well to it. And the nightmare’s gone. I mean, I remember it, but it doesn’t worry me anymore. It’s just a dream, after all.”

   “Dreams can be terrifying things,” Jim murmured knowingly.  He then pushed John underneath the spray and laughed as the shampoo was rinsed from his hair.  “I used to dream about a creature underneath my bed, and I would leap into and out of my bed when I was a child.  Wouldn’t get within a metre of it if I could help it.”

    As soon as it was safe to open his eyes, John peeked up at Jim with a smile on his lips. “That’s actually adorable, Jim.”

    “It was embarrassing,” Jim corrected with a smile.  “Conditioner now.”  With that, he drew John forward and pinned him against his body before kissing him softly.  “One day, you’re going to stop having nightmares.  When that day comes, we’re going to have chocolate cake to celebrate.”

    John’s hands slid down Jim’s back. He loved the feel of his body so tight against his own, slick and warm. “I’d love that. Fuck, I really would.”

    Chuckling, Jim finished conditioning John’s hair.  He let it set for a while before thrusting John underneath the shower spray once again.  “You know by now - I am sure - that I have quite a soft spot for chocolate-flavoured foods.  Fun fact, though - I don’t like chocolate by itself.  Chocolate covered fruit, I can do.  Chocolate ice cream or cake or what-have-you, I can do.  However, if you give me a Kinder Egg, expect me to break it open and play with the toy.”  It was nice to be able to talk about such mundane things about his life.

    “Mmn… I like it. I have a sweet tooth. I don’t get to indulge it often, but when I do- God, it’s good. I wouldn’t mind feeding you chocolate-covered fruit, to be honest, or even drizzling it over your skin… Talk about a treat.”

    “You know how I love to be fed things,” Jim jested.  “You’re all clean now, by the way.  From the top of your head to the tips of your toes.  Clean, clean, clean.”

    “May I wash you now?” John asked, taking the rag from him. “Clean is relative, by the way.”

    Jim chuckled.  “You could bear to be a bit more grateful for my efforts,” he responded before raising his arms and spreading his legs.  “Clean away, Johnny-boy!”

    After re-soaping the rag, John began to rub it over Jim’s skin. “I am grateful, I assure you.”

    He began with his chest, washing his throat and working his way down. Kneeling, he cleaned Jim’s legs and winked up at him. John hovered on his knees for a few moments, simply letting Jim enjoy the view before he rose and worked the lathered cloth over Jim’s back.

    Jim chuckled as John washed him.  It had been too long since he saw John so comfortable with himself.  When he felt the rag against his back, Jim leaned into the touch.  Already, he knew that he would do anything to keep John safe.  Come Hell or high water, he would ensure that John never experienced another night of fear or torment.  He would always wake up safe from this day forward... even if it required for him to get his hands dirty.

 


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Jim and Magnussen's help, John won't need to return to his family home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! The good news is that the story is finished! We just have a few more chapters to edit, and we can get them posted! 
> 
> Thank you for every continued read, and every kudos, and every kind word! If you enjoy this story, please be sure to leave reviews, or help spread the word - it really gives us the drive to keep going!

 The rest of the night passed like a blur for John. After their shower, he and Jim returned to bed and turned on a movie. Within ten minutes, he passed out, snoring softly on Jim’s chest. The steady rhythm of Jim’s heart kept the nightmares away, for which John was thankful. It’d been an exhausting day, after all. From the chase, the argument, the dream, and the sex, he needed the rest.

    Around noon, a knock came from the door. John groaned and buried his face in Jim’s neck, loathe to answer it. He was warm and comfortable, and he didn’t want to be bothered. Didn’t they deserve to sleep in after how trying their previous day had been? John sure thought so. Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away...

    When the knock sounded out a second time, Jim stirred.  The sunlight trickled into the room, but he was still thoroughly exhausted from the previous day.  Groaning, he loosely wrapped an arm around John.  Another knock declared that the person wasn’t about to go away anytime soon.  “Fuck,” he groaned, not wanting to get up.

    “Should I get that?” John whispered, sitting up just enough to spot his clothes beside the bed. “Unless you think it could be a reporter or the paps. But I guess they wouldn’t have made it this far, would they?” He didn’t think Magnussen would give them the chance but asking couldn’t hurt.

    “No way,” Jim confirmed.  “Magnussen’s better than that.”  With that, he cracked his back and groaned.  It felt incredible to do that after sleeping for so long.  “It’s probably the housekeeper.  Go tell her to go away.”  He slumped back into the bed and curled up on his side, turning away from the windows.  “Then come back.  Please.”

    John chuckled and kissed his forehead. “Yes, sir.” After carefully extracting himself from the bed, he pulled on his shit and trousers and padded to the door.  “Hello?” he asked, pulling it open.

    “John,” Magnussen greeted before glancing past him in and into the room.  He noted how far away Jim was but dropped his voice nonetheless.  “Please step outside.  We need to talk.”

    He’d known this would come sooner or later, but part of John had hoped it would be the latter. After casting one last glance back at the sleeping Jim, John stepped into the hall and pulled the door shut behind him. “Alright. Let’s talk.”

    “You’re an intelligent young man, so I’m not going to sugarcoat this,” Magnussen stated.  “Jim’s made his choice.  He’s taken to you, and I cannot talk any sense into him.  Therefore, I shall grace you with some advice only reserved for those promising enough to receive it.”  With that, he looked John directly in the eyes.  “There’s a saying that many celebrities are familiar with.  ‘You’re not a celebrity when you’re at home.’  Jim hates that saying because he knows it’s true.  When Jim is with me or alone in his hotel room, he’s simply Jim.  There’s nothing special about him.  He only gets to be Moriarty around the fans.  Although you might not want to believe it, he’s trying to extend that feeling to home.  If you ever stop treating him like a god, he’s going to get bored.  For the rest of your life, you’re going to have to keep him on a pedestal.  Trust me when I say that it will be tiresome.”

    Magnussen’s words made his stomach drop to somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. Jim would get bored. It was only natural, what with the life he led. How could he be happy with someone like John? Even with as social as John was, he couldn’t hold a candle to the parties and events Jim must be used to. And although he didn’t feel it was ever possible to stop worshipping Jim, he had to wonder what would happen if Jim perceived it as such? What if John didn’t appear to hold him in high enough regard? Jim said he liked it when John was honest with him, but what if it was a lie? What if Jim hated being treated like a normal person?

    “O-oh, uh… Right. Right, I will.” Tone somber, John nodded his head to show he understood.

    “Stop thinking,” Magnussen snapped, needing John to pay attention to him instead of wherever his mind was wandering off to.  “You’re overanalyzing.  I can see every single gear in your little head is turning, even the ones with cobwebs on them.”  He rapped John on the forehead.  “He needs to feel like a god, and whatever you’re doing right now is giving it to him.  What you did those first two nights definitely provided him with what he needed.  If it hadn’t, he wouldn’t have given you a second thought.  Alright?”

    “Alright,” John said quietly. He forced himself to hold Magnussen’s gaze. Any sign of weakness could now spell trouble for him and Jim in the future. After all, Magnussen called the shots, and if he protested enough, John knew he’d never see Jim again.

    “The second thing I feel you should know is that if you don’t leave now, Jim’s never going to let you go,” Magnussen warned.  “He’s had possessive tendencies before, but he’s become fixated on you even more so than any other before.  He’s sinking his claws into you.  And if you let him, he’ll burn all of your bridges in order to ensure that the only person you have is him.  Thus, if you want out, you need to tell me now.  I can provide you with a safe home, new mobile, and life away from him.  If not, there will be nothing that I can do for you should you ever come to want to get away.”

    Possessive? John thought of the alley, where Jim complained about his friendship with Mike and Tom. God, if he knew about Sarah, how angry would he be then? He felt threatened enough by John’s male companions.  It was more than a little scary to think about Jim destroying every connection until John was drowning in him and him alone. It was also more than a little exciting. It was a dangerous way to think. Relationships like that usually became toxic, even destructive. They could, with the slightest shift, become abusive. But John knew Jim would never hurt him. Being with Jim might require him to start a completely new life, but that something John was willing to do. Especially for Jim.

    “No. I don’t want out. I want this, and everything it might entail.”

    Magnussen blinked several times before frowning.  “Very well.  Then you have made your choice,” he murmured.  “Now, there’s the matter of your family.  I’ve talked to our lawyers, and you’re of age, so we can remove you from the household without filing for custody.  If you want to press charges against your family, we have the resources to do so.  If not, we will merely retrieve your belongings.  Jim will not be able to join you, though.  He’s already involved enough, and I can’t have his name splattered across the headlines.  However, I will come with you to ensure that you are not harmed.  After you have recovered what belongings you desire to keep, I will take you to a hotel, where you’ll stay until everything simmers down.  That being said, you cannot be in physical contact with Jim until I am sure that this is all swept under the rug.”

    No physical contact. Last night would be all they had for God knew how long. John instinctively reached back and touched the door handle. He needed to say goodbye, of course. Get in one last kiss, to run his hands through Jim’s hair, and the proper farewell that he should have received the first time. “I won’t press charges. I mean, what’s the point? My mother won’t speak up about it, and Harry’s moved out. No, I just want to get my things and go.”  He paused a moment. “Will I be able to say goodbye to Jim, at least?”

    Suddenly, the door opened.  Jim blinked sleepily before spying Magnussen.  Frowning, he grabbed John and pulled him back into him.  “What do you want?”

    “I came to talk to John about moving out,” Magnussen replied cooly.

    Jim’s grip on John tightened.  “I see.”

    “We need to leave as soon as possible.”  
    Jim responded, “Of course.  Come back for him in three hours.”

    Raising an eyebrow, Magnussen pressed, “Three?”

    “You can’t expect me to let him go without shagging his brains out one last time,” Jim responded.

    “Your stamina will last you two hours tops.”

    “Sex plus lunch,” Jim bit back.

    Sighing, Magnussen shook his head.  “Three hours, and he better be ready.”

    With that, Jim dragged John back into the room and slammed the door behind him.  “Are you alright?”

    The mere fact Magnussen knew exactly how long Jim could make himself last worried John. There had been many before him, and he knew that. He accepted it, too. It was one of the many perks of being an international sex symbol, after all. How could he be upset over that? Still, it summoned a painful question to the forefront of John’s mind. Had Jim really meant it when he said he hadn’t been with anyone since John?

    “I’m fine,” he replied. “Really, I am. Magnussen just wanted to talk.”

    “You were out there a long time for just talking,” Jim whispered before kissing John softly.  “I got worried.  What did he want to discuss that I couldn’t overhear?”

    “If I wanted to press charges or not. Your needs. He… He offered me ‘a way out’ if I didn’t think I could handle being with you.” John sighed and squeezed his hand. “That’s all.”

    Jim went tense when he heard that.  His heart dropped into his stomach as he thought about John leaving him.  The worst part of it all was the fact that Jim could imagine it.  After all, he had seen it plenty of times before.  Fastening John to him, he hissed, “And are you taking it?”

    “Obviously not. I told him I wanted you and everything that comes with you, good and bad. I love you, Jim, and I’m not going to walk away.”

    Jim kissed John.  “I love you so much,” he whispered against his lips.  Nuzzling him, he smiled and relaxed ever so slightly.  “Magnussen will get you a new Sim card for your phone.  I’ll be paying for your mobile bill from now on.”  Without another word, he reached down and began to knead John’s arse.

    Unable to suppress a low moan, John pressed against him. “Thank you,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around Jim’s neck. “For everything, Jim. God, you’re incredible.” Magnussen’s words were fresh in his mind:  Make him feel like a God. Keep him on a pedestal. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m so grateful to have you in my life.”

    “It’s just money, Johnny” Jim chided before licking into John’s mouth and dominating him.  He wanted John to know that he was still his no matter what.  Even if Magnussen tried every day to take John away, Jim needed John to know that he still wanted him.  “You’re worth every penny.  God, believe me.  You’re so worth it.”

    They had a mere three hours left together, and John wasn’t going to waste a single second. Lips parted for Jim, he walked backward into the bedroom and carefully guided their linked bodies to the bed. “It’s more than money, you know. You’re getting me into a safe environment. I never thought… Well, you’re a dream come true. You didn’t have to do any of this, but you did. For me.  For us.” As he spoke, he spread his legs and pulled Jim back on the mattress. Beneath him, John was more than willing to give himself over once more. What he needed, more than anything, was to be claimed once again. “I need you, Daddy,” he whispered, threading his hands through Jim’s messy hair. “I’m yours.”

    Jim moaned when he heard that.  Kissing him deeply, he pressed down on top of John so he would feel surrounded.  Because he didn’t know when they could next reunite, he wanted to make this moment as memorable as possible.  Everything needed to be perfect.  Kissing down his jawline, Jim made his way to John’s neck and began to suck love bites onto it.  “I’ve got you, Johnny-boy,” he whispered affectionately in between creating the marks.

    Safe in Jim’s embrace, covered with the heat of his body, and so close he could feel his heart beating, John felt at home. Home was now where Jim was. Hotel to hotel or city to city didn’t matter. All that mattered was Jim, and - for the first time since leaving home - John wasn’t afraid. Not of the future, certainly not of his father, and not about his relationship with Jim. With everything Magnussen said, he knew he should be, but it was hard to worry with Jim’s lips pressing along his throat.

    “It’s been too long since I last had you,” Jim groaned out before tearing at John’s clothes.  He wasn’t about to let anything stand in his way.  “I don’t know how much patience I’m going to have today, but don’t worry.  I’ll take care of you just as I always do.”  With that, he reached down and grabbed the lube.  “Have you been playing with yourself since we were last together?”

    John nodded, albeit a little shyly. “Yes, Daddy, I have. Not often, but when I could…”

    “That’s okay,” Jim whispered before nuzzling him, “so long as it was only you touching yourself.”

    “No one else but you and I,” John replied. “How could I let anyone who wasn’t you?”

    Jim smiled.  Kissing John, he slicked up his fingers and slid two inside of him.  He quickly located John’s prostate and began to tease it.  “You’re perfect for me, Johnny,” he murmured before kissing John again.  “I know that you would never break my trust.  God, I love you.”

    “A-always,” John whined, thrusting down on his his hand. “I will never hurt you. N-never - oh, Christ - I’ll never betray you!” He wanted to soothe Jim’s fears, but speaking was becoming increasingly difficult with every stroke of his fingers. “I love you, too!”

    By now, Jim couldn’t wait.  Between John’s moans and his time without, he was harder than ever before.  He slid in a third finger and began to fuck him harder and faster.  Sucking on John’s lower lip, he worked his fingers a bit more before sliding them out.  “Do you think you can take me right now?  Or do you need more preparation?” Jim pressed, not sure what he would do if John wasn’t ready.

    “I can take you,” John assured him. Without the warm touch of Jim’s fingers, he felt far too empty. “Please, Daddy,” he breathed. “Don’t make me wait…” It had been entirely too long since John had been with him. He needed Jim.

    Ensuring his own cock was slicked up, Jim slid slowly inside of John.  “Fuck,” he groaned out.  “Fucking Hell, I missed this so much.  I wouldn’t - I couldn’t - have sex with anyone else besides you.  You’re the one I’m meant to be with, Johnny.  I can feel it.”

    As Jim’s hips rocked forward, John clung to his shoulders and let out a soft gasp. He hadn’t forgotten how it felt to have Jim buried inside of him, but it’d been so long. John shuddered and shifted on the bed, already desperate for Jim to move. “I… I know you are, Jim, and I’m meant to be with you.” He licked his lips and leaned up to kissed him, nipping at the soft skin of his mouth. There was no one else then. He believed Jim completely.

    Moaning, Jim thrust into John languidly but deeply.  He wasn’t sure if John was actually ready to take him, but he couldn’t help himself.  John’s arse was perfect.  Once he found his rhythm, he leaned down and kissed him softly.  “You are,” he confirmed before smiling.  “Feel better?”

    “Fuck, yes,” John groaned, rocking in time with Jim’s slow thrusts. “I’m much better now.” He teasingly tightened around him, voicing another low whine.

    “Oh, you’re just asking for it, aren’t you?” Jim murmured, moving faster.  Even so, he was going to wait for explicit permission before getting rougher with John.  Now that he knew about his abuse, he didn’t want to do anything to remind him of it.

    “I am!” John gasped, scratching lightly at Jim’s skin. “Be as rough as you need to, Daddy,” he whispered. “Just don’t shout at me, and I can take it. Please!” Knowing that it might be months before John got to see him again, he was desperate for Jim’s attention. He wanted anything and everything. Whatever Jim wanted him to do, John was more than willing.

    “I’m sorry I ever even raised my voice around you,” Jim crooned before snapping his hips.  Now that he had permission, he wasn’t about to hold back.  It felt too good, and he didn’t know how long they would be parted.  Kissing John deeply, he moaned and carefully pinned him to the bed.  Even though he wanted John restrained, he kept his grip light enough that John could release himself should he so desire.

    “Just like that,” John panted. “God, Jim, don’t stop!” Held down, John couldn’t reciprocate the way he wanted, but it felt incredible. With his arms stretched above his head, he was entirely at Jim’s mercy. Every thrust bounced him against the mattress, and each low growl that issued from Jim’s throat sent shivers down his spine. He wanted more - of anything Jim would give him.

    Licking down John’s neck, Jim carefully bit down on John’s shoulder.  He wanted to leave John marked in so many locations, but they weren’t all possible at that very moment.  Fucking him harder, he released John’s flesh before kissing it.  “I’m not going to stop until you come.”

    As Jim’s teeth sank into his smooth skin, John’s hips jerked upward. “Fuck!” he cursed, glancing over at the mark. “Good! Very good. I want you to leave more marks, Daddy. Please!” John wanted to remember the feel of Jim’s mouth. He wanted to look in the mirror every morning and see the claiming mark and remember to whom he belonged. It wasn’t as if he’d forget, but the proof was nice. It made him feel adored.

    Jim hummed against his skin before sucking love bites across his neck and collarbone.  Once John was all but covered in bruises, he sank his teeth into the other shoulder to leave a matching mark.  There would be no doubt now that John was claimed.  “We will see each other again before these bruises fade,” he stated.

    “Promise?” John gasped, writhing beneath him. “Will you promise me that we will?”

    “I promise,” Jim swore.  He smiled down at John.  “Now come for Daddy, Johnny-boy”

    At Jim’s command, John threw his head back and arched his spine, crying out as he spilled onto the tight muscles of his stomach. “Daddy!” he cried, eyes rolling back in his skull.

    Jim moaned as John went rigid with his orgasm.  As always, he looked simply beautiful with his jaw dropped open and his eyes wide.  Kissing him deeply, Jim smiled and began to move faster.  His own orgasm was imminent, but he wanted to ensure that John had enjoyed his before allowing himself to come.

    “Yes,” John groaned. “Oh, fuck, don’t stop!” Sweating and strung out, he fought to keep moving. John wanted to watch Jim’s cheeks flush with colour and feel his body tremble. “More! I can take it. Do whatever you need, Daddy!” The discomfort was worth it. Nothing compared to the feeling of Jim pulsing inside of him.

    Jim groaned before orgasming.  Burying his face in John’s neck, he moaned as he rode out his orgasm.  Once his cock was soft and sensitive, he pulled out and slumped onto John. “Next time will be better.  We’ll take out more time and explore something new,” he promised.

    Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, John smiled up at him. “Something new? I’d love that. And don’t think this was bad,” he assured Jim. “God, I missed you. I missed the way you make me feel. It was perfect. I mean - fuck - I came so fast!”

    Jim chuckled.  “Good,” he responded before melting into the mattress next to him.  “I’m thinking we should get some toys.  I mean, I have some at home we could use.  Handcuffs or gags or blindfolds or anal beads or full body restraints...”  With that, Jim hummed.  “Sorry.  I was quite a dabbler when I was younger.”

    “I’ve never - um…” John’s tongue slipped along the curve of his lips as his cheeks filled with colour. He wasn’t inexperienced, but his first experience with anything like that was when he and Jim had shared desserts. “I’ve never used any sort of toy or prop,” he admitted with a whisper. “Honestly, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. That’d be up to you.”

    “That’s alright.  We will start off slow,” Jim informed him before running his fingers through John’s hair soothingly.  “Just try out with the bindings first.  You seem to like it when I pin you to the bed.”

    “I’d like the restraints, I’m sure of that. As long as they aren’t too tight.” It was true. John did love it when Jim pinned him down. Something about being entirely in Jim’s control made his blood sing and his heart race within his chest. John hoped they’d get the chance to try out the full body set Jim had mentioned once their situation was more stable, of course.

    “Good to know!”  With that, he kissed John.  “We should get lunch before Magnussen comes to take you away.”

    “Lunch… Right. Right, yeah, because I have to go.” He’d just gotten Jim back. One day wasn’t enough, but at least this time he wouldn’t be returning to a dangerous environment. Magnussen would take him somewhere safe, and though he wouldn’t be with Jim, he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping it a secret either. In public, yes, but wherever Magnussen arranged him to stay? He wouldn’t need to hold back there. Late-night calls, text messages, no fear of checking his phone during dinner. It wasn’t quite heaven, but it was certainly close.

    “Johnny?” Jim called out softly.  Sometimes, John seemed to go off into his own world.  Jim understood why now.  He probably lingered far too much on the past.  But right now, they were together, and he didn’t want John anywhere but the present.  “Hey, come back to me.”

    Swallowing, John blinked up at him. “Sorry,” he said, keeping his voice quiet. “I was thinking of how much easier this is going to be, without me living with my father.”

    “It’s fine,” he crooned.  “It’s going to be so much better.”  He then kissed him.  “Johnny, will you tell me what abuse you’ve survived?  You’re so strong, I know, and that’s the only reason why I ask about it.  I know you can handle telling me.”

    The ghost of Jim’s lips pressed against his own gave John the strength he needed. “Yes, I will,” he answered, “but only after you order lunch.”

    “What do you want to eat?”

    “A chicken and bacon club,” John replied, “with extra bacon.”

    Jim called room service and made sure to get two sides of chips as well.  After some thought, he ordered the most expensive steak on the menu before hanging up.  Tugging John in closer, he tangled their legs together and stared into his eyes.  “Alright.  Ready?”

    John gave a little nod and took a breath to steady himself. This was it, then. His moment of truth. He’d never spoken of his home life before, and part of him wasn’t sure he’d be able to. Still, he needed to try. He owed Jim that much. “It started when I was seven or eight. Before that, it was all emotional. Shouting, screaming, telling me I was useless, that I wasn’t a real man, that my mother should have been on the pill so he wouldn’t have to deal with me. Harry was the one being hit at that time. She was apparently old enough to take it but not me. Not yet.

    “One night he came in and grabbed her out of bed by her hair. I don’t remember anymore what she did. Broke a glass, maybe, and tried to hide it? Either way, he was trying to drag her to the living room to ‘teach her a lesson.’ I stood up for her. I just jumped out of bed and hung onto his arm, trying to break his hold. He backhanded me across the face and sent me to the ground, and I guess that’s when he decided I was big enough.

    “It was just his hand, at first. He’d slap me or punch me. When I was fourteen, it got worse. Mike - he’s my best friend. We’ve known each other for years. Well, he came over after a rugby match. We’d won, I was on the team, and things… We kissed. It just happened, you know? We were excited, I was so bloody proud, and the next thing I knew we were snogging. And it wasn’t bad. I’d only kissed girls until that point. I liked blokes, but my dad didn’t know. No one knew, not even Mike, until then.

    “But I didn’t know my father was home. So when he came in to ask me to do the dishes, he found us laying on the bed. Clothed, just snogging, but he snapped. He screamed for Mike to leave and grabbed me by the arm - hard enough to bruise - before dragging me toward the cellar. He shouted about how I was disgusting and worthless. Every word was followed by a hit. A punch, a slap, his belt. When he was done, he just shoved me down the stairs. I hit my head pretty hard. The doctor said I had a concussion. It - uh - it broke my arm, too. He left me down there for two days. No water, no food, no light. I eventually managed to drag myself up the stairs, and I leaned against the door and begged for him to let me out. I told him it’d never happen again, that I didn’t like boys, that I would only ever be with women, on and on. I would have said anything to get him to let me out.

    “When he finally did, he took me to the hospital. Didn’t say a fucking word to me, but - then again - he didn’t have to. I told the doctor they were all rugby-related injuries. She didn’t believe me, but she didn’t press it either. I complimented her. I flirted with her just to prove to my father I’d changed. Of course, I hadn’t.

    “He noticed the posters. Musicians I liked, actors, always men. Tore them all down over and over, but I kept putting them up. Slaps and punches turned into brutal hour-long sessions on my knees while his belt smacked against me. He’d leave me bleeding and begging for him to stop every time. I think he just liked hearing it. I was beaten for every little transgression - not clearing my plate, not washing a pan to his liking, ‘talking back,’ saying ‘no,’ being out too late, seeing Mike…

    “And that’s really it, I guess. It could always be worse.”

    “John,” Jim called out.  His blood was racing, and he could feel the rage welling up. To hear that someone so compassionate would be hurt in such a way was infuriating to say the very least.  To know that John didn’t understand the full extent of the damage was disparaging.  And to think about Mike Stamford kissing John was utterly maddening.  There were so many emotions that he hadn’t felt in years, all fighting to be predominant.  He hadn’t felt this way since Carl Powers, but he knew exactly what he was going to do.  “Don’t you dare fucking say that to me ever again, do you hear?”  With that, he pulled John into a bruising kiss.  His nails scratched down his back, not breaking the skin but leaving red marks in their wake.  John was his now.  “You deserved so much better than what that piece of shit did to you.  And to think your sister left you there!  She knew!”

    His list was growing.  John’s dad, his sister, his mother, that nurse, that doctor, and Mike bloody Stamford.  All of them knew, and they hadn’t done anything to help him.  Jim smirked.  Before long, they were going to be begging for help as well, but none would come - just as none came for John.

    The kiss was rougher that John had anticipated, yet it was not unwelcomed. As Jim’s nails slid down John’s skin, he closed his eyes against the tears that threatened his vision. He’d never told anyone about Mike before, and the memories of the cellar still filled him with fear. After all, even cleaning the damned thing had nearly been too much for him. It was so difficult to talk about the things he’d been through, especially to Jim. What if he thought less of him? What if he left? “I… I’m sorry,” he whispered. “She knew, and she got out while she could. I don’t blame her, really, I don’t. I would have offered to let her come with me, if I was in her position, but I get it. She wanted to be with Clara. She didn’t want to live in fear.” He tried to ignore the anger in Jim’s voice - if he dwelt too long on the tone of his words, he knew he’d break.

    “No, John,” Jim insisted.  “She’s the worst sort.  You would have never left her there alone, and she didn’t think twice about you.  Had I not happened, what do you think you would be going through right now?  How much longer would you have to wait?  How many more minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years?  She’s selfish.  She’s cruel.  She’s no better than your father, leaving you there like that.  Do you understand, John?  She turned her back on you.  There’s no room in her life anymore for you, so there should be no room in your life anymore for her.”  With that, Jim reached down and began to dig his nails into John’s arse.  If only he could take him again - fuck him senseless - show him who owned him now - who was the only person who loved him.  None of the others did, after all.  It was only Jim who saved John.

    John didn’t bother to stifle his moan as he pressed against Jim. “S-she’s my sister,” he objected, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t have left her, but if she’d waited, my father might not have let her go.” John loved Harry, even after she’d left him stranded with their parents. And if not for her - “If not for her I wouldn’t be here with you. We never would have met. In a way, she saved me, didn’t she? She got me to you.”

    “No,” Jim objected, his grip tightening.  “Who was to say that I would become attached to you?  She didn’t know, John.  She still doesn’t know what happened that weekend.  All she knew was that she was leaving you behind to deal with all the pain and punishment and hoped that the tickets would appease you enough to soften the treachery.  How many times did you save her?  Think, John.  Think hard.  Count them all up.  Now, how many times did she save you?  I bet that she can’t even compete.”  With that, Jim locked eyes with John, holding him with his gaze.  “And she knew that you would never leave her!  Hell, I knew that after knowing you for only one day.  No, she might be your sister, but she’s still a traitor.  Your father might not have let her go, but she obviously had no issue with leaving on her own.  She knew she could get away.  What she didn’t know was that you could, too.  She didn’t care about you, John.”  Leaning forward, Jim kissed John affectionately.  “Not like I do.  Oh, my Johnny, I will never betray you in such a way.”

    In his heart, John knew Jim was correct. He’d stood up for Harriet far more times than she’d stood up for him. They got along, they cared about each other, but she didn’t even try to get him out of the cellar. He’d screamed himself hoarse, begging for help in the darkness, but Harry ignored him. “No, I’d never betray you, Jim. Not for anything, not for any reason. I love you… But she did buy the tickets,” John noted weakly. “She bought the passes. She even drove me to the concert. I never would have met you without that, any of it.” His voice wavered slightly. Though he still fought for Harry, Jim was swaying him.

    Jim could hear it in his voice.  He had him.  Just a few more nudges in the proper direction, and John was his once more.  “One good deed does not redeem a person,” he whispered before rolling them over so John was on top of him.  “My beautiful Johnny, you always try to see the best in people.  That’s what makes you so spectacular.  Your abuse has not tainted your pure trust, but my God have you been led astray.”  He nuzzled him affectionately.  “Hitler built the Autobahn.  Did you know that?  And he got Germany out of one of the worst recessions of modern history.  Two good deeds.  Yet would you call him a good man because of it?”  With that, he shook his head.  “She bought you the tickets.  That I cannot deny.  But driving you is nothing incredible.  You could have ridden the Tube to the concert yourself, and she wanted to go to her girlfriend’s afterwards.  It wasn’t as though she did it for you and only you.  And the fact still remains that she could never predict that I would come and save you.  How could she know that I would fall so madly in love?”  Carefully, he kissed John’s lips.  “You love me.  Therefore, you would never betray me.  I love you, and thus, I would never betray you.  She betrayed you time and time again.  Now, what does that tell you?”

    “That she doesn’t love me,” John whispered, looking down into Jim’s rich brown eyes. His words made sense, after all. Harriet had hurt him, and though Jim had as well, it wasn’t the same. He didn’t feel like pressing the issue of Jim’s deceit, especially with how long it might be before John saw him again. Harriet abandoned him without so much as a goodbye. At least Jim had wanted to be close to him.

    “But I do, John.  Remember that.  I love you more than anything else.”  With that, Jim reached down and spread John’s arsecheeks.  During his manipulation, he had gotten hard once more.  Now that he successfully split John away from his family, he needed to drive the point home.  “Look at what you do to me.”  He slipped his cock back inside of John, thrusting up into him.  “I’ve never recuperated this fast before.  Only for you, Johnny.”

    John clung to Jim’s shoulders as he filled him, groaning and rocking down against him. “I-I love you, too. You and only you…” He leaned down and pressed their lips together as Jim bucked upward. Bouncing against his hips, John moaned and licked into Jim’s mouth.

    “Do you want to ride me, Johnny-boy?” Jim inquired softly, sensing the desire in the way he moved.

    “Yes, Daddy, I do,” John replied, rolling his hips for emphasis.

    Reclining, Jim gently pushed John up.  “Take your time to get used to the movement.  It’s slightly strange, and my cock might fall out.  That’s usual, though.  You’re not doing anything wrong,” he explained.

    “Alright,” John said, albeit a little nervously. He placed one hand on Jim’s chest and sat up properly. Back straight and head tilted down to look Jim in the eyes, John slowly lifted his hips. When he could feel the glans, John brought himself back down. Slow yet steady, his rhythm built.

    Jim moaned softly as John began to find his rhythm.  “Just like that, Johnny,” he crooned, helping him by thrusting up in the same rhythm.  “Oh, fuck!  You’re so fucking good.”

    The praises encouraged John to work faster. Panting with each bounce, he began to pick up his pace. “Th-thank you, Daddy,” John gasped, working his hips with more force. Sensitive from earlier and with the more intense pleasure of the new angle, John was trembling with ecstasy as Jim pressed deeper.

    “Johnny, you never have to thank me for telling you the truth,” Jim informed him.  Without warning, he began to knead John’s arse.  “You’re so good to me.  No one could ever hope to compete.”  He tossed his head back and moaned wantonly.  “That’s perfect.”

    John shuddered and gasped, letting his head fall back as Jim squeezed and caressed the muscle of his arse. “O-Oh, God, Daddy, don’t stop! No one - no one compares to you. No one has, and no one ever will.”

    Jim was addicted to the noises John made.  All of them were perfect, from the catches of his breath to his cries.  Honestly, Jim found it a shame that they ever had to stop.  But when he heard the sound of someone knocking on the door, he knew they had been at it for a bit too long.  “Shit,” he whined.

    The knock sent John falling forward, and he caught the headboard for support. “Fuck!” he spat. “That would be lunch.” His hips stilled as he sat a moment, catching his breath. “It’s not fair!” he whined before forcing himself to slide off Jim’s hips and reach for his clothes. “I guess I’ll get it then.”

    “Johnny, don’t be silly,” Jim scolded before yanking him back.  He pulled the blanket over them.  “Come in!”

    With that, Magnussen opened the door with a tray.  “I must say that I’m not surprised that you went for rounds five, six, and seven,” he remarked as he walked towards them.

    Laughing, Jim replied, “You overestimate my abilities in bed, I believe.”  He smiled at John.  “Not that it couldn’t happen, what with Johnny here.”

    “You’re going to make me regurgitate,” Magnussen stated before setting the tray down on their coffee table.  “Just try to keep it down.”

    “Yes, Mummy,” Jim taunted.  Without saying a word, he slipped underneath the blanket.  Swiftly, he located John’s cock out and started deep-throating it.

    Magnussen rolled his eyes as he headed towards the door.  “I hope John teaches you some shame!”

    Smirking, Jim hummed around John’s cock.  He felt oddly accomplished.  If there were any doubts before, Magnussen definitely knew John was his now.

    John had never been redder in his life. Entirely naked when Magnussen entered, he was grateful for Jim’s quick reflexes with covering their bodies. He kept his eyes downcast as they verbally jabbed at each other, embarrassed by the state Magnussen had found them in. But things only really fell apart when Jim vanished beneath the blankets and took him in his mouth. John couldn’t stifle his obscene moan fast enough, and as Magnussen stood to leave, John’s lips fell open in uncontrolled bliss.

    Honestly, part of him felt bad for making the manager uncomfortable.

    It wasn’t a very big part.

    Jim chuckled around John’s cock, having heard his moans.  The door closed soon after, and he slid off John’s cock.  “Sorry about that, Johnny, but I just needed to bother him.”

    Whimpering softly, John nodded his understanding. “I-it’s fine. Really.” Magnussen had probably seen worse in his time working with Jim.

    “I love you,” Jim responded before sliding up and beaming at John.  He took both their cocks into his hand and began to stroke them together.  “John Watson, do you hear me?  I love you.”

    “A-ah! I-I love you, too, Jim Moriarty. I love you more than anything!” John cupped his cheek in one soft palm, holding his gaze as Jim stroked them together. Somehow, it felt more intimate than anything they’d done before. All that existed in that moment was the warmth of their bed and them, lost in one another.

    “Come with me then, John,” Jim coaxed, thumbing over the tips.  “I’m so close.  A-are you?”

    “Yes!” John gasped. “God, Daddy, I’m so close. I’ll come - I swear - just don’t stop!”

    “I’m not stopping until we come,” Jim promised.  He nuzzled him affectionately before tightening his fist.

    John whined and thrust into his palm. “Oh, my God! Jim, I-! F-fuck! Jim!” His hips stuttered forward as he pulsed over Jim’s fist, making a mess of the sheets beneath them.

    Upon seeing John come, Jim couldn’t help but orgasm himself.  “O-oh, John,” he moaned out before shuddering and bucking against him.

    Leaning forward, John kissed him with a breathless growl. His hands tangled in Jim’s hair as he grazed his teeth over Jim’s bottom lip. Now they would eat, get cleaned up, and be separated once more. He didn’t want it. What John wanted was to stay right there and let the world crumble around them, but he knew that was impossible. “Mmmm, Daddy…” It had to end or he would never let Jim go. John forced himself to reign his emotions in. “Alright,” he said quietly, pulling back enough to speak. “We should eat and get ready.”

    “Eat slowly,” Jim amended.  He then shifted up and got the tray before bringing it back over.  Grinning, he set it down and stole one of John’s chips.  “What should we talk about now?”

    As he took a bite of his sandwich, John shrugged. “You could tell me how the tour was,” he mumbled around his mouthful of food. “Now that I know you’re back and all.”

    “We’ve already touched on most of it.  It was fine.  I mean, it was just like every other tour that I’ve ever done.  Bigger venues, sure, and more money.  But other than you, it was nothing special.”  With that, Jim took a bite of steak.  “By the way, we’ve officially found a studio for me to work out of.  I know that doesn’t mean much now, but I can stay in London if we want to or we can both go back to Dublin.”

    “I could go to Dublin with you?” John found it impossible to keep the hope out of his voice. “I would love that. I’ve never even been out of the country. And I hear Ireland’s breathtaking.” He chuckled and took another bite. “Not that I’d be able to notice with you right there. I’d spend the whole trip looking nowhere else.”

    “We can go wherever you desire as soon as you’re done with your modules,” Jim answered.  “I’ll show you all the sights!  There’s a certain beauty to Dublin that - if you ask me - most people miss.”

    John finished his sandwich and started in on his chips, mulling over Jim’s words. “I’d like that - love it, really. With you to show me around, I’d love it even more.”

    “We’ll go to all my favourite restaurants and pubs.  There’s this market where they sell the best produce.  You’re going to die when you taste the bruschetta there.”  Jim started bouncing excitedly.

    “God, that sounds perfect.” John smiled back at him. “Just as soon as we’re both free, right? It won’t be long at all.” John hoped his voice sounded convincing. To him, it was almost feeble. He was grasping at straws now, but what else could he do? Lying to himself was easier than admitting that it’d be much longer this time.

    “Not long at all,” Jim assured before nuzzling him.  “We’re going to be back together before you even know it.  And until then, we’ll have our mobiles.  We’ll talk and text all the time.  It’ll be as though I’m out on the longest errand known to man.”

    “You know, we could have more than that,” John said, forcing another smile. “At least a little more.”

    “What do you mean?” Jim asked, a bit baffled.

    John leaned closer, smile growing more genuine. “Surely you have a laptop. Your phone has a camera. Did you know there’s an app that can delete messages after a set amount of time? I could send you photos and even videos. If you wanted to, we could see each other on camera. It’d be a lot more personal, of course, and more substantial than a phone call or a text.”

    “You’re brilliant,” Jim exclaimed, startled that he hadn’t thought of it first.  “Oh, Johnny, you’re absolutely brilliant!”  With that, he gave John a chaste kiss before finishing up his baked potato.

    “I’m glad you think so, Jim.” John leaned back on the pillows and closed his eyes. Their time would be up soon, and though he didn’t want it to end, he knew it would be easier now. Jim loved him and cared enough to be loyal to him. And with the added aid of technology, it would be like he was right there with him.

    Jim stared at John for a bit.  “I want to cuddle,” he declared.

    “Then come here, Daddy,” John said gently, opening his arms.

    Jim slid in close and tangled them up together.  “God, this is exactly where I want to be for the rest of my life.”

    Honestly, John felt the same way. A soft bed, a full stomach, and Jim wrapped up in his arms? It was home in a way nothing else could be. “Same,” he replied, letting one hand smooth over the back of Jim’s head. “Just like this. With you.”

    Jim hummed and pressed into John’s touch.  “Exactly like this…”

    And then there came a knock on the door.  Immediately, he knew their time together was over before it even properly began.  He sighed softly.  Magnussen had the damnedest timing, it seemed.  Another knock sounded out, and he groaned.  Once he gave John a soft kiss, he got up and headed over to the door, hardly caring about the state of his body.  Opening it, he frowned.

    “Fifteen minutes,” Magnussen stated before looking past him and at John.  “Get cleaned up and dressed.  I’m calling the car now.”

    “Fine,” Jim replied before slamming the door shut.  “God, I hate him sometimes.”

    As grateful as he was for Magnussen offering to get him out of his situation, he hated the interruption. Before dressing, John crossed to where Jim stood and wrapped his arms around his waist. “It’s going to be alright, Daddy,” he whispered. With those large blue eyes turned up to Jim, John flashed him a warm, soothing smile. “I love you, and this is going to work. It won’t be long before we’ll be together again for good. Just don’t forget that, alright?”

    Jim sighed.  “Yeah, it’s going to be just fine,” he whispered with a smile before nuzzling him.  After a moment, he teased, “Alright, you do what you need to do.  Just don’t leave my arms.”  He then secured John so John wouldn’t be able to move at all.  “Chop, chop!”

    Giggling, John wrapped his arms around Jim’s chest and held on just as tightly. “Yes, sir!”

    Jim chuckled.  Without warning, he lifted John up and spun them around three times.  He finally released John from his grasp.  “Go on then.  Magnussen’s always punctual, and he’ll like you a bit more if you are, too.”

    The room blurred and swam before John’s eyes as he loosed a small giggle. “I’ll see you soon, Daddy,” he said softly, before kissing him goodbye. Fingers tangled in Jim’s dark hair as John raised himself on his toes. When they finally parted, he touched his chest one last time. “Hope this makes up for last time.” With his goodbye out of the way, John grabbed his bag of comics and headed down to meet Magnussen at the car.

    Magnussen stood outside, waiting patiently for John to emerge.  Opening the door for him, he motioned into the vehicle.  “After you,” he insisted, fixing John with his hawkish gaze.

    Beneath Magnussen’s studious watch, John climbed into the car, scooting all the way over to the other side. He wanted plenty of room between the two of them.

    As soon as John was in, Magnussen joined him.  He handed John a pad and paper.  “You’re going to leave your mobile at your father’s house, so write down all your contacts’ information.  It’s easier, I find, than making a Facebook message about it.”

    John pulled out his phone and went through it, copying every name in his phone. There wasn’t many he wanted to keep. Tom and Mike, definitely, and Sarah. There were a bunch of old girlfriends he didn’t keep in contact with whose numbers he ignored. Jim was written down next, and then- John stared down at the number registering on his screen.

    Harry Watson.

    Traitor, Jim had said. She doesn’t care. It made sense, and he believed Jim. He did! But what if something happened to her? He couldn’t turn off a lifetime of closeness so easily. Harriet left him behind, but if she needed him, he knew he would always answer the phone. He added her number to the bottom of the list with a footnote - ‘just in case’ - and passed it over to Magnussen.

    Magnussen took the list from him and placed it in his briefcase.  “When we go in, you won’t have much time to collect your belongings.  Go for the most sentimental items first then favourite clothing.  Remember that Jim can provide you with anything you should require, so don’t feel pressured to get everything.”  With that, Magnussen turned to look at John.  “And whatever you do, you must ignore your father should he be home.  I will ensure he doesn’t touch you, but if you let him get to you, he will distract you from your mission.  Understand?”

    Ignore him? After everything his father had put him through, it felt impossible. But with Magnussen there to protect him, John believed he could manage. He was already going over everything he’d grab: his worn, dog-eared copy of The Hobbit, his clothes, the autographs Jim signed for him, and as many CDs as he could fit in his bag. Most of what he owned were books, and honestly those were completely replaceable.

    “Oh!” John took out his phone and quickly emailed himself the photos of him and Jim together, from the signing session. As soon as he received the notification, he wiped the photos from his phone. Messages they exchanged followed, erased in case his father went through it.

    They stopped outside John’s home, and Magnussen stared at it in disdain.  “Remember to move quickly and precisely.  Pack as much possible.”  Without another word, he hopped out and opened up the boot of the car.  He pulled out a duffel bag and a large, roll-along suitcase.  “I hope you can fit enough in here.”  With that, he held them out for John to take.

    John took them and nodded. Quick and precise. He could manage that. Pulling the luggage behind him, he knocked on the door. Though it came as little surprise, he still felt his stomach sink as his father opened the door in a slightly dirty vest and a pair of worn jeans. “Where the fuck have you been?” he spat, looking from John to Magnussen beside him. “And who the fuck is this?”

    “John, go,” Magnussen ordered before turning to Mr Watson and fixing him with his gaze.  “Good evening, sir.  I’ve come to legally represent your son in regards to the mental and physical abuse he suffered at your hand.”

    While Magnussen distracted his father, John ducked inside and hurried to his room. He grabbed his book and Jim’s cds, the signed poster, and his backstage pass and ticket stub. The rest of the space in his luggage was filled with clothes, and he managed to stuff his pillows into the duffle as well. They were comfortable, and really, he loved them too much to replace them.

    Without even glancing at John, Magnussen continued, “Now, I know that you might be tempted to deny any allegations.  Honestly, that would be your best bet.  However, we don’t require any statement from you to know that you’re as guilty as sin.  I would advise for us instead to come to a happy agreement.  You leave John alone, and I won’t let this family secret smear what’s left of your reputation.  How does that sound?”

    “Whatever the boy’s ‘suffered,’” Richard said, words slurring together, “he’s deserved. It’s my right to discipline my son as I see fit. I know for a fact he can’t afford a lawyer, so where the Hell did he find you?” He ignored Magnussen’s question.

    “Pro bono case,” Magnussen responded with a wave of his hand.  “In any case, Mr Watson, you’re horrifically wrong.  It’s not your right to discipline your child as you see fit by any longer.  You’ve broken more than one law in John’s time living here.  So how about I put this in a manner in which your tiny, drunken brain can handle.”  With that, Magnussen stepped forward, not shying away from the man’s horrid breath.  “You will not contact John Watson again.  You will not follow him.  You will not stalk him or have someone else stalk him.  You will never lay eyes upon him again.  Because if you do, not only will I drag your sorry arse off to jail, I will persecute you in the highest viewable means possible.  Everyone will know your name.  Everyone will know what you did to your own flesh and blood.”  Magnussen smirked.  “And I know for a fact that your bookies would not approve.  What would you do if they began to demand back all that money you owe them now?  I wonder how long you would hold out before filing for bankruptcy.  My guess is no longer than a week…”

    Richard scowled, lips twitching in a sneer as Magnussen finished. There was no way around it, and that was clear even to him. Still, he was like a rabid dog backed into a corner. John was his son and his business, and while the men he owed wouldn’t appreciate a light being shone on his activities, he couldn’t let himself be bullied on his own front porch. “I don’t fucking care,” he hissed. “John’s not leaving this house. You want my name to be known? Fine. You want to take me to court? Fine. I’m not afraid of you, or the people I may or may not owe, and I’m not afraid of my son.”

    Laughing, Magnussen shook his head.  “I was hoping you would say that.  First of all, you do realise that John’s old enough to leave on his own, with or without your permission?  Sixteen’s the age to be in this country, and he’s older than that.”  He then pulled out his mobile phone and began to scroll through the numbers.  “Who should I call first then?  Ricky, perhaps?  You owe him a good £3,000 at least.  He’s also got three children, none of whom he would ever lay a hand on.  Or perhaps Samuel would enjoy a chat.  £5,246.92 quid lost there over the last - oh, wow - mere three years!  You’ve been busy, Mr Watson.  And I know he’ll bust your kneecaps when he finds out.  Or maybe Taylor would appreciate a call.  You might not owe him nearly as much, but he’s been aching to prove his worth, and beating the shit out of you would definitely do it.”  With that, Magnussen looked up.  “I give any of these people a call, and word will spread like wildfire.  Hell will be knocking on your doorstep.  Now, I am telling you politely to stand down.  Let us go without incident and never even look at John Watson again.”

    The colour drained from Richard’s face as Magnussen pulled up the information. No escape then. Nothing to be done. John was going to leave, and he couldn’t stop it. In his own sick, twisted way, he did love him. Every strike and every slur was meant to make him tougher. Without him, John would be a slacker. He was helping. But not anymore. The creepy lawyer had information on him that not even his wife knew about, and Richard wasn’t going to press any harder. “Fine. Take the little cunt, then.”

    Just then John reappeared behind him and slipped back out, carrying his bags to the car.

    “Have a good day, Mr Watson,” Magnussen responded with a faux smile before following John to the car.  Once everything was loaded, he opened up the door and shoved John inside.  They needed to leave before John’s father changed his mind.  “I hope you got everything.”

    Safe in the car, John slumped against the window. “Yeah. Everything. I left my phone on my nightstand.”

    “Good,” Magnussen murmured before pulling out a mobile phone.  “It’s identical to Jim’s.  He wanted you to have something to remember him by, he said.”

    “Oh, wow,” John whispered, turning it over in his hands. “Thank you.” Just like Jim’s. Something to remember him by. It wasn’t as if John would forget Jim, of course. Jim was his entire world, and all this was so they could be together.

    Magnussen hummed.  “We’ve put you up in a small but nice hotel just across from Kensington Gardens.  This will be your temporary residence until we can ensure that your father won’t do something stupid and so Jim’s involvement can remain unknown.  Once we believe everything is fine, we’ll move you into Jim’s flat in Hampstead.”

    John smiled and nodded. “Thank you. That’s absolutely perfect. Hell, you could put me in a hostel, and it’d be better than what I had.”

    “Unlike most rockstars, Jim Moriarty has actually been intelligent with his money.  He can afford to put you up in this hotel.  Please, don’t believe that this is through the recording company.  I am merely carrying out his desires.  It is Jim you should be thanking, not me.”  Looking over at John, Magnussen continued dryly, “I was just going to put you up in my flat for free, but Jim didn’t approve for some reason.”

    Clearly, he knew. Magnussen’s disapproval was tangible enough for John to feel. He swallowed and gave another small nod. “Right. I - um - I definitely plan to thank him as soon as I reprogram his number.”

    “Good,” Magnussen stated before leaning back into his seat.  “Look, John, I know we didn’t get off on the correct foot, but understand that I’m only a hard-arse in order to keep Jim safe.  Since you’re becoming a permanent fixture in Jim’s life, I thought I might as well let you know that any and all previous comments were made with the sole intent of protecting Jim.  There was nothing personal between us.  I think you’re a good kid - albeit in a bit over your head.”

    “Really?” John frowned at him over the top of his new mobile. Too many remarks had hit him too close to home, especially backstage. And that wasn’t even taking anything Magnussen might have said about him during the tour into account. What was it Jim had said that day John went to spend time with his friends? ‘Magnussen was right?’

    “Truly,” Magnussen informed him.  “Some of the remarks might have been made to drive you away, but I only wanted you away because I worried about Jim.  However, we’re on the same side now.  You want to protect Jim just as much as I do.  It just so happens that that includes keeping you safe.”  With that, he reclined back in his seat and began to flip through a folder.  “The place you’ll be staying at is lovely and very much out of the way.  Comes with a complimentary breakfast you should take full advantage of.”

    Protect Jim. That was part of John’s job now. If he went out on his own, he couldn’t be seen in connection to Jim in any way. Staying in was certainly safe, and as long as he didn’t talk to Mike about what was happening, he didn’t think anyone would discover them that way. Not that Mike would tell. An errant message in the wrong hands, though, could have catastrophic consequences. No, John would keep quiet and keep his head down, so that Jim could work in peace. “I will, then. Thank you.”

    Magnussen said nothing as they continued to drive there.  Then he handed Jim his card.  “Should you require me,” he explained dismissively.  With that, the vehicle stopped, and he got out in order to open up the boot.

    John climbed out after him and tucked the card into his pocket. “Mr Magnussen… Thank you for all your help. An-and for all you do for Jim.”

    Blinking in surprise, Magnussen handed John his luggage.  “It’s just part of my job,” he remarked, trying to play it off.  After all, he wasn’t used to people genuinely thanking him.  “Come along then.  You are registered Jim’s pseudonym. That way if your father calls around, they won’t give him any proper information.”  He handed Jim the keycard to his hotel room.  “There’s a spot right next to the door for you to put your card.  That’ll activate your electricity.  Also, there’s free WiFi here, so use it all you want.  They’ll give you the password if you ask nicely.”

    John took the card and his luggage and followed Magnussen inside. His eyes widened as they crossed to the counter. What pseudonym would Jim use? His lips twitched into a small smile as he imagined Jim booking a room himself under a false name in some sort of low-key outfit. Even better, though, was the visual of him in his stage clothes. He’d be utterly conspicuous, and something about that tickled John to his core.

    Magnussen walked over to the counter.  “Mr Brook is here,” he informed the woman, wanting her to know what her new VIP looked like.  Instantly, a gentleman stepped forward and took John’s luggage.  “Room 518.”  He looked back at John.  “Tell Jim you’re alright or I’ll never hear the end of it.  Goodbye.”

    “Goodbye, Mr Magnussen.” John gave him a little wave and turned back to the clerk. “Is it possible to get the password for the Wi-Fi by any chance?” he asked, giving her a warm smile.

    Handing John a card, she smiled back.  “It’s written right here.  Unlimited access as long as you’re staying here.  Do you need anything else?”

    John shook his head. “No, I think I’m alright. Thank you very much!” With the card in hand, he turned and headed for the lifts. The trip to the fifth floor seemed to drag on as he toyed with his mobile. Despite how badly he wanted to text Jim, he was trying to wait until they had relative privacy. Anticipation only made the trip worse. Finally, the doors slid open as a woman’s voice announced that he was on the fifth floor. 518. John followed the signs until he reached his room and stepped inside. He instantly saw the holder Magnussen spoke about, and he placed his card inside of it. The electricity and air conditioning activated as he was told it would.

_You wouldn’t believe this place. Well, you might since you’ve probably had nicer. Jim, this is amazing. Thank you. -JW_

    By the time John finally texted him, Jim had already showered, dried off, changed clothes, gotten primped for the day, and finished his then cold meal.  His phone chimed, and he found it was John on his new mobile.

_My pleasure, Johnny.  Do you like your new mobile? -JM_

    Falling back on the bed, John smiled down at the screen as he typed.

    _It’s beautiful - way nicer than what I had. And I hear we match. -JW_

_We do.  In both mobile and plan.  Unlimited texting, calling, and data.  I want to have full access to you whenever possible. -JM_

    He couldn’t help but smile as he sent off the text.  Only John appreciated him so extensively.

_Unlimited calling? Does that mean we can stay on the line tonight? -JW_

    No repercussions. John could stay up late and talk to Jim until they both fell asleep, and in the morning, he could wake to Jim’s voice. It would be as if they were still together. And this time, no one could take that away from them.

    Jim could read the excitement in his text, and he couldn’t keep himself from beaming.

_Only if you plug your mobile into its charger for the night.  Charger’s somewhere in your dufflebag, I’m pretty sure. -JM_

    Of course. John looked around for his effects. He found them neatly tucked in between the bed and wall, the bag resting atop the suitcase. After a few minutes, he found the cord and hooked it up, charging the mobile on the nightstand.

_Done and done. So that’s a yes, then? -JW_

_Of course.  Tonight, when you go off to bed, we’re going to whisper in each other’s ears until we can’t go on any longer.  Then we’ll pass out and listen to each other sleep. -JM_

    Jim smiled at the thought.  Even with them parted, he would still be able to affect John’s life.  By no means was he willing to give up that, after all.

    John licked his lips, wondering how he should respond. With his new freedom and safety, he was feeling much bolder than he had in months.

_And what sort of things will you whisper, Daddy? -JW_

    As soon as the message sent, John began to fold his clothes and assign them specific drawers. After all, he’d be there a while. He might as well settle in.

    Jim wasn’t a moron.  He had caught the implication in the text.  By now, he knew John well enough through texts to understand what he meant without explicitly stating it.  However, he was going to be a bit more romantic than John probably expected.  He seemed to love it anyway.

_Whatever you want, Johnny-boy.  I’ll tell you what I want to do with you the moment we meet back up.  I’ll explain in full detail why I love you.  I’ll sing to you that lullaby.  I’ll tell you a bedtime story.  Whatever you require to sleep peacefully. -JM_

    “Awww.” Jim was being sweet, and John appreciated it. They’d have time for other things later, of course. This was… special. Part of John felt safer knowing that Jim wanted to make him feel special in a different way. And honestly? John preferred that.

_You do owe me a bedtime story, you know. Quid pro quo. Do you remember the one I told you? -JW_

_As if I could forget it. -JM_

    Jim then closed his eyes and began to concentrate.  There was still so much to do.  Right now, John seemed to be alright despite the sudden change in his life.  No homesickness, which was good.  As long as he didn’t slip back into contacting his mother or his sister, Jim would have an easy job ahead of him.  After all, his plan required for John to be out of contact with them in order for police to not suspect him.

    A murder of a man who deserved it by his wife and daughter.  It would be spectacular.  Harry probably would never receive her freedom again.  Not if Jim had a say in it - and he did.  He always had a say.  Slowly, he scrolled down his contacts and fell upon a name he hadn’t looked at in years.  Not since that incident.

_Alright. You’ve got the rest of the evening to plot one out. Make it good! I love you. -JW_

    When his clothes were sorted and packed away and his books nestled safely in the nightstand, John stripped his clothes and stepped into the bathroom. Still a little filthy from his afternoon with Jim, he was glad for the opportunity to get washed up. Giggling to himself, he drew the water for a bath. The bathtub had jets, and despite being smaller than the one in Jim’s room, it looked like quite the luxury to John. After pouring in two caps of soap to make the water bubbly, John sank down beneath the water and turned on the jets.

    “Oh, God,” he groaned, tipping his head back. “This is Heaven.”

    That night, he knew Jim would call. John could spend his evening listening to whatever story Jim thought up without fear of being caught or punished for running up the bill. Everything was changing, and it was finally for the better.

    Jim smiled at the message when the notification popped up, but he didn’t open it.  Instead, he clicked on the name and pulled up the number.  Tapping the call button, Jim sucked in a deep breath as the phone rang.  It had been years, and he wasn’t sure what exactly would happen.  He released the breath and heard the click of a connected call.

    “I thought you lost my number.”

    Jim chuckled.  It seemed that some things never changed.  “Of course not.  Do you remember-?”

    “Don’t insult me.  Of course I do.”

    “Well, you never know.”  Jim reclined against his pillows.  “How’s civilian life been treating you?”  When there was no response, he hummed knowingly.  “I thought as much.  What if I told you that I could restart that excitement you need?  What if I told you I had something that would push your intellect and capabilities?”

    There was a pause.  “I’m listening.”

    Smiling, Jim stated, “I have a job for you, Sebastian Moran.  And I think you’re going to find it pretty interesting.”


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finally puts his foot down where Jim is concerned - he deserves more than arguments and abandonment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left! 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with us this long, and being patient! We hope you're enjoying the ride as our story comes to its end!
> 
> Remember to help spread this around! Comments and kudos are incredible motivators, and every new hit brings a smile to our faces! We've been working really hard on this piece, and like I've said before, for me (Ashurha) this is the longest piece I've contributed to. Any reviews, shares, or even just kind comments really make our days brighter :)

    Living in the hotel proved to be far more luxurious than John had expected. ‘Complimentary breakfast,’ as Magnussen put it, involved room service _or_ a buffet down in the basement. A man of simple tastes, John often ordered eggs to the room and spent his mornings reading. There was a gorgeous view of Kensington Gardens just outside, and between the warm sunlight and the cool breezes, he was never uncomfortable. At night, the lights glimmered, and he would often take his phone out and send Jim pictures of the skyline. They never quite showed just how beautiful it was, though. Sometimes, of course, he’d splurge on dinner or dessert. Cakes and fruits were the most requested. Now and again, he’d order something like a steak or a fish platter, but John usually stuck to pasta. Living in the hotel was as close to heaven as he felt he could get without Jim around.

    Part of the complimentary perks of the room included fresh towels every morning, a thorough cleaning of the rooms, a soft cotton dressing gown and a seemingly endless supply of little lotions, soaps, shampoos, and colognes. In all his life, John had never felt so pampered. In fact, he was often loathe to leave the beautiful suite with the large bed and downy pillows. When he _did_ leave the confines of the hotel, it was mostly to stretch his legs. John never wanted to call Magnussen and ask for anything - lest he be accused of taking advantage of Jim’s attentions - so shopping was never on the menu. Apart from a few brief texts to Mike and Tom, he didn’t really speak to anyone either.

    Except for Jim.

    Sure, it was lonely, but John always wanted this. Freedom. Privacy. Peace. Living alone didn’t bother him one bit.

    “Johnny, are you even listening to me?” Jim teased.  Getting John a new mobile and plan turned out to be the best idea he ever had.  Every night, they talked as they both tried to drift off to sleep.  Jim knew that his voice was soothing to John, although he wasn’t entirely sure why.  Even so, it made Jim feel special and important in an exhilarating way.  Even when they were parted, he could play a role in John’s everyday life.  “Or have you passed out on me already?”

    “Mmn? Oh, I’m listening,” John answered, smiling at the phone. His silence wasn’t intentional. He _had_ started to drift off, but then Jim’s low voice and whispered words put him at ease like nothing else in the world. It wasn’t a sign of disinterest or boredom. He was merely relaxed and - honestly - relieved to be speaking with Jim. “I might have, um, missed part of your sentence, though. Would you repeat it for me, pretty please?”

    Jim chuckled.  “Close your eyes, Johnny, and relax,” he gently ordered.  “Breathe deeply.  In through your nose, out through your mouth.”  Jim sucked in a deep breath himself, accidentally cracking his back in the process.  “Our possible topics to talk about are the following: one, how fucking perfect you are; two, how much I love you and why; or three, how I’m going to cuddle the shit out of you once we’re back together.”

    Letting out a happy coo, John did as he was told. His eyes fell closed as he focused on Jim’s words, breathing as Jim instructed. “How much you love me,” he answered, still grinning. “To be followed by my rebuttal - how I love you more and why.”

    Jim beamed at the challenge.  “Maybe I should let you go first so you would fall in my trap, but I believe I can win this without trickery.  If I could explain in words how much I loved you, I would.  However, that would mean that I either didn’t love you nearly enough or that my words would fall painfully short of explaining it.  What I can tell you, though, is that you haven’t left my mind for even a second since we met.  I think about you almost constantly.  Any song I write is about you.  You have become my centre - my anchor - my _universe_.  And just as no one can properly explain and comprehend the universe around us, I cannot explain the enormity of my love for you,” he stated, a smirk forming.  “Rest assured that I will never love anyone as much as I do you right here and right now.”

    “You know, I haven’t stopped thinking about you either. Not for a single second. I think about you first thing when I wake up in the morning and the last thing before I fall asleep. I think about you when I’m walking to a shop or feeling warm sunlight against my skin. I think of you while I watch a movie and when I’m trying to decide what to eat for dinner. You take up every aspect of my life. You have ever since you looked at me backstage, and I forgot my own name. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, and I _still_ feel like that. Just hearing your voice, Jim, takes me out of the world and puts me right back there. It leaves me in awe. God, I would do absolutely anything to show you how much you mean to me.”

    “Just keep doing exactly this,” he whispered.  “That’s all you have to do.  For the rest of your life, just be you.”

    “I will, Jim. I promise. No lies, no acts. You have me.”

    Humming, Jim couldn’t keep himself from feeling satisfied.  “So how’s everything going for you, Johnny?  Still like your hotel?”

    “It’s lonely, but I don’t mind. It’s honestly nice to have some peace and quiet. No screaming, nothing breaking, and no one leaving the game on with the volume so loud I can’t think. And the hotel is beautiful. I love it. Thank you.” John sighed happily, snuggling a little tighter under the blankets.

    “I just can’t wait for you to move in with me,” Jim noted with a smile.  “There’ll be so much to do that you’ll never feel bored!”

    “Being bored is impossible with you around,” John answered, missing the important part of Jim’s reply. “Never a dull moment.”

    “You’re too good at this flattering thing, Johnny.  You really need to tone it down, or my head will become three sizes too large,” he teased.

    “Nah, you love it. I’m sure it’s nice to have someone _mean_ the compliments after dealing with the media as often as you do.” Magnussen’s words echoed back to John, even in his sleepy state.

     _Make him feel like a God. Keep him interested._

    Humming, Jim nodded despite the fact that John couldn’t see it.  “That’s true enough,” he commented.  “You know, I’ve never felt like this before with anyone.  There’s just something about you that makes me feel inherently good all of the time.  It’s like…”  He paused a moment, trying to figure out how to explain it properly.  “... when I’m on stage, only in a smaller dosage that remains constant.  Does that make sense?”

    To John, it _did_ make sense. Jim had spoken of the rush he felt before the crowds before, so he wasn’t entirely in the dark to the sensation Jim was describing. “Yeah, it does. A steady thrill. That’d be the love,” John giggled.

    “It’s nice.  I like it.”  Then he paused a moment.  “I can see why people murder for it.”  He knew he was skating on thin ice, but he still couldn’t help himself.  “All of those crime shows that I’ve watched in my life, a good portion of those people killed for love.  Honestly, I never comprehended it.  How could _one_ person affect someone else’s life so greatly that they would be willing to extinguish the life of another?  Why couldn’t that other person just let them go?  But now, I understand.  You helped me understand.  Thank you.”

    “Really? I’m glad I could help you understand passion killing,” John said, chuckling a little. “Somehow, that’s really sweet.” As tired as he was, John didn’t think anything of the remark. It was just one of Jim’s flow-of-consciousness musings, often odd but endearing. Though much darker than he was used to, Jim had shown him a similar side before - when John caught him in London. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

    Jim’s mobile buzzed with a message.  Knowing what it was, he said, “Johnny, Magnussen needs to talk to me.  Can I call you back later?”

    John rolled his eyes and let out a little huff. “Of course, Jim. Tell him I said hello. I love you. Goodbye.”

    “I love you more.  We’ll talk soon,” Jim crooned before hanging up.  He then flipped over to the message and read it.

    It seemed Sebastian was getting closer to finding the last products required.  Smirking, Jim knew it was merely a matter of time.  He already had everything planned out.  They would spike the alcohol with thallium and reseal the caps of the bottles with a touch of nail varnish.  Since John wasn’t home anymore, the bottles would just be handled by Mr and Mrs Watson.  Thus, the suspicion would be placed on Mrs Watson for the poisoning.  What would seal the deal, though, would be encrypted files on both Mrs Watson’s and Harriet’s computers, which would reveal the plan in detail.  Even New Scotland Yard wouldn’t be able to muck it up.

    However, thallium proved slightly difficult to obtain.  Sebastian all but broke into Baskervilles in order to retrieve some.  This, of course, wouldn’t be able to lead back to anything or anyone.  After all, a top-secret laboratory wouldn’t want any information getting out to the public, even if it was New Scotland Yard asking the questions.

    As soon as they hung up, John flicked off the lamp and settled down to sleep. He felt like the luckiest man alive. It didn’t take long for him to drift off, with a smile on his lips. _Jim loves me._

    Warm sunlight bathed his body in a golden glow. John stirred and stretched, yawning as his mind rose from the fog of sleep. Remnants of a dream began to scatter as he blinked himself awake - fragments of low growls and soft lips, of hands gliding over his skin…

     _Jim._

    John’s hand glided down his stomach as he shifted his hips. The red cotton of his pants rubbed against him in an uncomfortable manner as he touched his skin - the dream left him wanting, and his need presented an opportunity. John grabbed his phone and opened his Snapchat.

     _I miss you._

    The text was positioned just over his waistband, giving Jim a view of the straining fabric. John sent it and lay back, waiting to see if Jim was awake enough to reply. God, he hoped he was. It’d been far too long since they’d been together.

    Jim heard his mobile ring with a notification.  Groaning, he rolled over and checked it to see if it was Sebastian.  Even better, it was John.  He opened up the application and let out a moan at the sight, which was over far too quickly.  Flipping over, he quickly opened up his camera and revealed the bulge in his green boxers.  Then he rubbed down the side of his cock with his thumb, revealing it even more.

     _Daddy understands.  I miss you, too._

That was just too good a response to ignore. John let out a soft moan and inched his pants down, letting his head peek out from the elastic. He took another photo, making sure his fingers were visible as well.

     _I can tell. Want to help me?_

    Jim already had his cock out, and he gave it a few strokes.  Moaning, he stared at the photo and licked his lips.  God, did he want it.  He quickly snapped another photo before sending it off to John.

     _You need to catch up a bit, Johnny-boy._

Then, just to be a tease, he took a second one. _  
I can’t stop myself when I think about you._

    “Fuck!” John cursed, scrambling to remove his pants. He wrapped his hand around his prick and began to stroke, staring greedily at the photo on his screen. If John concentrated, he could remember exactly how every inch of Jim felt between his lips. Another desperate whine slipped from his throat and held down the capture button, taking a video. “ _Daddy,_ ” John whimpered, canting his hips. Groaning, he stroked until the timer ran out and sent it to Jim.

    If Jim hadn’t learned self-control, he probably would have orgasmed from seeing that video.  The way John’s voice broke, the undulation of his hips, and his heavy breathing all combined to create a beautiful image for Jim to indulge in.  Without any hesitation, he wrapped his hand around his own cock and began to stroke it.  He fumbled about a bit, unfamiliar with the app, until he got the video started.  Fucking his fist, Jim growled out, “John.”  He then sent the video off.

    John played it again and again, listening to the low rumble of Jim’s voice as he picked up his pace. Knowing Jim was thinking of him and touching himself gave John the sort of pleasure he’d never experienced before. He held the button down once more, taking another video. “Tell me what to do,” he panted, slowing his hand.

     _Send._

    Almost instantly, Jim hit record.  It was only then that he realised he had no idea what to say.  “D-do you have lube?” he inquired before shaking his head and deleting that video.  How fucking stupid.  They were supposed to be in the heat of the moment, not fumbling about like a virgin.  Starting up a video again, Jim moaned softly as he thumbed over the head of his cock.  “I want you to beg for me, Johnny.”

    Begging was something John could do. As his hand slid over his skin, he began to speak. “Please,” John whimpered. “Please, Daddy, I need you! God, I need you so badly!” John sent the video and closed his eyes, prolonging his pleasure as he waited for Jim’s response.

    Jim’s breath hitched, and he swallowed hard.  John’s voice was intoxicating.  Honestly, he was two seconds away from finding out where John was and going over there.  But this would have to do.  Starting up his own video, Jim began to stroke himself slowly and steadily.  “Do as I do, Johnny-boy,” he crooned, thumbing over the head every third stroke.  “Until your cock is weeping for more.”

    John copied Jim’s movements as best he could, falling into a steady rhythm. Every third stroke, he’d roll his thumb over his head with a shuddering gasp. And for Jim, he recorded it. Three videos, all sent, as John slowly began to tremble.

    Even then, Jim couldn’t believe the amount of control he had over John.  He couldn’t comprehend just how loyal John was to him.  In his opinion, he didn’t deserve it.  Not yet, at least.  After watching each video, Jim began to stroke himself faster.  “You’re being such a good boy,” he moaned out, recording his movements.  “You deserve a treat.  Stroke yourself faster, Johnny-boy.  Enjoy yourself.”

    With Jim’s permission, John stroked faster. “T-thank you,” he panted, filming once more. “Thank you, Daddy!” His hips began to jerk of their own accord, up into the tight warm circle of his fist.

    Jim barely got his video to record before he came hard into his hand.  A series of slurs followed, as he could hardly believe how fast he had orgasmed.  John seemed to be the key to premature ejaculation.  Thoroughly embarrassed, Jim sent it off anyway, knowing there was no way to get around it.  Even if his refractory period was short, John would notice the lack of response.

    Watching Jim come and curse was exactly what John needed to go rigid with ecstasy. He managed to start filming shortly before his climax, moaning Jim’s name as his cock pulsed over his fingers. The video sent and John grabbed a handful of tissues to clean himself off.

    Jim was already cleaned when John’s video came in.  After merely watching it once, he committed the entirety of it to memory.  He never wanted to forget the sound and look of it, even if the real thing was better.  “That’s my good boy,” he crooned in the next video, smiling blissfully at the camera.  “Good morning to you, too.”

    Flushed and smiling shyly, John recorded a quick response. “Morning, Daddy,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “Did you sleep well?”

    “Yes, thank you.  Should we transfer to a call?” Jim inquired in response.  “Or would you rather have some breakfast?”

    In lieu of an answer, John dialed Jim’s number and scooted back under his blankets. “I want to hear your voice properly before I so much as get out of bed,” John said into the microphone. “Thank you for that, Jim.”

    Laughing, Jim called him up as soon as he could.  “You’re a naughty boy,” he teased before cracking his back.  “Jesus Christ, that was incredible.”

    “I told you technology would keep things interesting,” John giggled. “Come on, tell me - how did you _sleep_?”

    “Not as well as I do when you’re in my arms,” Jim teased, catching the insinuation.  Then he pressed in a serious tone, “What about you?”  Jim was nervous about John being all on his own.  After all, John had nightmares - that much Jim knew for sure - and he couldn’t be there to help.

    “Not a single bad dream last night,” John answered. “Honestly, I haven’t had one since coming to the hotel. It helps knowing no one can get in without my express permission. I feel safe here. Mostly, I dream about you.”

    Jim’s heart melted.  “I’m so glad to hear that,” he confessed.  “I want nothing more than to make you happy and keep you safe.  I’m willing to do anything to guarantee those two things.”

    “I know you are. And that - Jim, that means the _world_ to me. Whatever happens, I’ll never be able to really repay you for this. For loving me, for saving me, for getting me out of that toxic hellhole - but I’ll spend every day trying.”

 

* * *

 

    “Sebastian, I am trusting you on this referral.  Should he be anything less than what you say he is, it’s going to be your hide on the line,” Jim threatened as he idly scrolled through the channels.  For the last several weeks, while John remained locked up in his hotel room, Jim had been making good headway on his plans.  The goal would be to strike on the first day when John was with Jim.  It would have John the perfect alibi.  However, there were still a couple of factors that he needed sorted before they could go through with it.

    “Trust me.  His pension after his service in the army wasn’t nearly enough, and his recovery expenses?  Well, let’s just say that he’s not a huge fan of Queen and country,” Sebastian informed him.  “He’s not going to turn you in.”

    Jim hummed thoughtfully, pausing a moment as he pondered over it.  If Sebastian’s intel was correct, he should have no problem working with this bloke.  If it wasn’t, Jim knew that he could have Sebastian kill him before any important information was leaked.  And if it did happen to get leaked, Jim would create a brilliant defense that would destroy this guy’s reputation.  Hell, he might even be able to get the guy to commit suicide if he did it properly.  “Fine.  Conference him in.”

    There was a long moment of silence before a deep yet quiet voice called out, “Hello?  David here.”

    “I take it Sebastian has already filled you in,” Jim stated nonchalantly.

    “He has, but I would prefer to hear it from you in order to be certain I’m doing what you desire.”

    “Absolutely not,” Jim responded.  “But how about you tell me what he said to do, and I’ll tell you whether you’re right or not?”

    Suddenly, David chuckled.  “You are exactly as he described you.  Very well then.  Sebastian informed me that we have two targets, a Mrs Watson and her daughter Harriet.  Harriet is currently living with her girlfriend, but they keep a spare key under the mat.  Entering will be easy.”

    “But you will have to be careful at the other household.  A bloke who lives there is pretty thick.  He has a strong arm and will probably attack if he finds you in there.”  With that, Jim began to twirl a pen in his hand.  “In any case, if you go in while he is at work, I seriously doubt you’ll have any issue.”

    “Right…” David murmured, letting the word trail.  “And you want the files to be almost undiscoverable?”

    “On the daughter’s.  The mother wouldn’t be that adept with computers, so we will have her ‘hide’ them in an email folder marked ‘Redeemed Codes,’ which you should nest under her ‘Shopping’ folder.  It’ll look inconspicuous enough that she won’t notice it in time.”

    David responded, “Right.  Seems simple enough.  And the payment’s in order?”

    “The first transfer has already been made in good faith.  You will receive the second one when I have evidence of your job being successfully completed.  Understood?” Jim ordered before his phone vibrated.  He pulled it back to see it was John.  “Tschao.”  Hanging up, he beamed, knowing it would change the inflection in his voice.  “Johnny-boy!”

    It hadn’t been long since he’d heard from Jim last. Probably two days at most, but John missed him all the same. After a morning spent swimming, John headed back to his room and dialed his number. “Hi, Daddy,” he said, smiling into the mobile. “How’ve you been?” He hoped he wasn’t interrupting Jim, or annoying him. The last thing John wanted was to push him away.

    “Busy.  Sorry that I haven’t called recently.  I’ve been getting some last things in order.  How’re you doing?” Jim inquired.

    “I’m fine. I’m not interrupting anything important, am I?” John sank down on his bed, hair damp.

    Jim shook his head as he spoke.  “No, I just finished up the phone call. Perfect timing.  Do you still like the hotel?”

    “Yes, Daddy, I still love it. It’s… well, fucking huge, for one. I went for a swim today.”

    Jim blinked.  “A swim?  Where did you manage to go swimming?”

    “There’s one near the hotel. It’s not an Olympic-size one, but it’s big enough to do a few laps in. Five feet deep, nice and cool, and I had it all to myself today.”

    “That must have been nice,” Jim remarked before closing his eyes.  “I miss you, but it won’t be long before we see each other again.  Five days now.  Are you counting down?”

    “Hell yes I am,” John whispered. “Every night, Daddy, hoping it somehow goes faster.”

    Jim chuckled.  “I wish it would go faster, too, Johnny.  Alas, we must wait.  But I know it’ll be worth it since you will _not_ beleaving my arms for the entire first day.”

    “That’s going to make trips to the bathroom awkward as hell,” John laughed. “Sure that’s the phrasing you want to use?”

    Jim burst out laughing.  “You’ll be lucky if I don’t hold your cock while you take a piss, Johnny,” he teased.

    “Christ, when you say inseparable, you _mean_ it. I love you so much.”

    Jim grinned, glad John took it so well.  “We’ve been separated long enough.  And since you can’t really contact anyone, and your sister is out of the picture-”

    “Out of the picture?” John asked, clearly confused. “I haven’t talked to her since the concert, but that’s a little fatalistic, isn’t it?”

    “We talked about her, John.  About how she never loved you?  I thought it was clear that you needed to sever all connections with her,” Jim stated before sitting up.  “You did, didn’t you?”

    “I just said, I haven’t contacted her since the night we met,” John repeated. “I haven’t seen her; I haven’t emailed her; I haven’t sent her a letter…”

    “John,” Jim called out, his voice turning cold.  “Not contacting her and severing all connections with her are two wildly different things.”

    “I don’t know how much more severed I can _be_ , Jim, short of leaving the country and changing my name.”

    Jim scoffed.  “With technology nowadays, there’s a million ways to be severed.  No longer Facebook friends, no number in your mobile, no longer following each other on Tumblr or Twitter, and disassociating yourself with places she frequents and people she knows.”

    “I don’t have a Facebook,” John mumbled. “I have her number, but that’s it. It’s only for emergencies, i-if something happens! Or I can’t get a hold of you, and it’s dire-”

    Jim groaned.  “Oh, Johnny,” he bemoaned, shaking his head.  “You sweet, considerate creature.  We have spoken about her already.  She’s an anchor - one that  you need to cut.  Besides, she obviously doesn’t care about you.  If she did, she would have checked up on you by now, wouldn’t she?  But she’s happy without you, and you’re happy without her.”  With that, Jim paused a moment before weakening his voice in order to guilt John.  “You… you _are_ happy without her, right?”

    “What? Yes! God, yes, I’m happy without her! You’re all I need!”

    Smiling as he heard that, Jim answered, “You’re all I need, too, Johnny.”  He then paused a long moment.  After all, he wanted to give John a moment before bringing down the hammer.  “So will you delete her number for me?”

    “Alright,” John said carefully. Even though he didn’t like this at all, he didn’t want to fight. He scrolled through his meager contacts’ list and found her number. _Harriet Watson. Delete?_ “But… Why? What’s having her number really going to do?”

    Jim hesitated a moment.  “Well, you see, Johnny,” he said, stalling for time as his brain whirled.  He didn’t think nearly enough before he started speaking. “It’s just that, you know, when you associate with people like Harriet Watson, it reflects poorly on both of us.  After all, you’re my boyfriend.  If Harry found out about it somehow, she might try to sell the story to someone.  Finding out a celebrity is dating an unknown teenager?  That would make plenty of money.”

    “And who exactly would she ‘sell’ that to? Liquor’s not illegal, and she can buy it in plenty of places. Cheaply, too, if she’s desperate. I’m not going to tell her anyway, because it could get back to my father.” As much as it hurt him, John forced himself to ignore the description Jim gave him. _Unknown teenager._ It certainly did wonders for his self-esteem.

    Pressing his lips together, Jim pressed, “This isn’t chump change we’re talking about, John.  We’re talking about a couple thousand quid for such a story.  And what with her addiction, well-”  He paused a moment.  “Many people who are addicted to something go to the ends of the Earth to get it.  There are plenty of people - your father, for instance - who will spend their last dime just to get a sip.”

    “Harry has a _job_ , even if she’s just stocking at Tesco. And Clara’s got money, too. Her drinking’s not that bad, Jim! It-it’s troubling, yeah, but she’s a far cry from dropping to her knees in an alley for a pint.”

    “Right now, yes,” Jim conceded.  “But in a few years when we come out together?  You cannot vouch for her then.”

    John sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I suppose I can’t.”

    “I’m just trying to do what’s best for us, Johnny.  I know it’s hard-” Jim began to explain.

    “What’s best for us? Jim, this is about what’s best for _you_! This is about taking away the only family I have left! I know. I _know_ she’s _poison_ for us - for _you_ -but if something happens to her, I need to know! I need to be able to take her call!”

    Jim blinked, shocked by the outburst.  “If something happens to her, she’s going to call Clara first, not you.  She made that much obvious by _abandoning_ you,” he responded, too defensive to think through his words.

    “I don’t care that she abandoned me! I’m fucking used to it to be honest! But I can’t just stop caring! I know you want me to, Jim, but I can’t! I-I’ve given up so bloody much for this - for you - for us-”

    “And this is the _last_ thing I will ask for!” Jim emphasized.  “Look, I told you from the beginning that being with me wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.  We have to sacrifice things in order to be together-”

    “Yeah, but you haven’t given up anything! All you’ve given up is _me._ I feel like a pet, Jim, not your boyfriend! You adopt me, cage me up, and then leave me for someone else to babysit. I can’t do this; I can’t do that; I can’t see my friends; I can’t keep my sister’s number in my phone! I rarely go out, just to be safe. When I do, it’s never more than a block. Can’t risk someone I know seeing me or someone following me. Can’t risk the cameras snapping pictures of me. I give, and I give, and I sit here like a good boy and don’t ask for a single thing. I haven’t asked for money or clothes or alcohol. Hell, I barely ask for food! And I could. I could ask for you to come back or I walk. But I haven’t, have I? You’re off wandering the world, making records, doing interviews, and I’m sitting here in a hotel hoping and fucking praying that - should you get bored of me and toss me aside - I can rebuild all the bridges you’ve forced me to burn. Because you’re the only person in my life, and that’s somehow still not enough for you.” John’s voice cracked, letting out a rush of emotions he had no intention of ever expressing to Jim. He clapped a hand over his mouth, blinking away tears as he realized what he’d said.

    Jim was gobsmacked by the declaration, and he sat silent for a while.  He had been so wrapped up in plotting the murder of John’s father that he had all but forgotten about John.  “If it makes you feel any better,” he murmured, “I haven’t been wandering the world as you claim.  I’m as trapped as you are.  I can’t go out without risking being recognised or having a photo taken of me.  Sometimes, I can’t even get food at Sainsbury’s without someone harassing me for a photo or autograph.  You’re experiencing my life, to an extent.”  With that, he stared at the ceiling.  “In your perfect world, what would our relationship be like?”

    “I… Dinner. And a _proper_ dinner, not like our first. One where we drink, we eat, we smile, and you talk about interviews you’ve done, and I talk about movies I’ve seen and cute dogs I’ve gotten to pet near the hotel. We go back to our room and watch telly until we fall asleep. I drift off to the sound of your heartbeat and with your fingers tangled in my hair, and I wake up in your arms and with the warm sunlight shining through the window. Your hair’s a mess and mine sticks out every which way, but I wake you up with a kiss and we go about our day. Maybe we cook breakfast together. Maybe we go out for lunch to a little cafe that sells sandwiches. And when you’re gone, we don’t fight. We laugh and tell each other good things to make our time apart easier. And when you come home, I kiss you until you can’t see straight.”

    Jim’s heart melted upon hearing the thorough description.  Obviously, this wasn’t the first time that John thought about this.  He owed it to John to be sure, but what’s more was the fact that he wanted that, too.  He wanted everything just as John said.  “Very well,” he murmured.  “Get dressed.  I’ll be there in about thirty.”

    Thirty minutes? Was he being serious? John’s eyes widened as his hand closed around the phone. “Really? You-You’re coming?”

    “Yeah, I’m coming, Johnny,” Jim cawed.  “So you better be ready!”

    “O-oh! Okay - um - I need a quick shower, but I’ll be ready! Oh! And I’ll do what you asked. I’ll get rid of Harry’s number.”

    Jim smiled.  “I’ll see you soon,” he murmured before hanging up.  It didn’t take much time at all for him to get changed and call a taxi.  As soon as it was there, he slid in and gave John’s hotel address.  He then sat back and began to send out texts to Magnussen, forcing him to get things all sorted out.  One of these days, he would cut out the middleman.  Right now, though, he didn’t have enough information or connections.

    John hurried through his shower, washing his hair and body as quickly as he could. Once he was finished, he pulled on Jim’s jumper and a pair of jeans and waited for him. Soon, they’d be together. Soon, they’d be having dinner and laughing, and it’d be perfect... or as perfect as they could get. It was enough for him to be happy.

    Jim leapt out of the taxi as soon as he arrived, knowing it would wait for him to return, and headed up the stairs.  He could have taken the lift, but he had a sinking suspicion that it would take too long for his taste.  At least this way, he kept moving.  Stepping outside of John’s door, he held his breath before lightly knocking.

    The knock sent John jumping up from his bed, hurrying to the door. He threw open the door and stood still, staring up at Jim as if afraid he’d disappear. “Daddy?” John whispered, shifting his weight between his legs. “You meant it then? We can go to dinner?”

    “Of course,” Jim murmured before opening up his arms.  “Whatever my Johnny-boy wants, he gets.”

    Giggling, John grabbed him and hugged him tightly. “Oh, thank you! Thank you so much.”

    “It’s no problem,” Jim murmured, wrapping John up in his arms.  “It’s what you need, after all.”

    “It is. It’s _exactly_ what I need. This. And you. Are you ready?” John pressed a kiss to Jim’s chest, smiling.

    Jim chuckled.  “Of course,” he murmured.  Pulling back, he twirled to show off his disguise.  “Can’t you tell?”

    “Clever, I like it. Alright, let’s go. You can tell me all about your trip on the way.”

    Wrapping one arm around John’s shoulders, Jim pressed, “Trip?  What do you want to know about it?”  He steered John towards the lift, as he did the first night they met.

    “Meet anyone interesting? Get any new deals? Write any new songs?”

    Jim hummed.  He couldn’t very well let John know that most of his “trip” had been spent working out how to murder John’s father and pin the blame on his mother and sister.  Instead, he answered, “I did finish one song.  Your song, actually.”

    John flushed and peeked up at him. “You finished my song? The one from the hotel?”

    “Yeah, the one from the hotel.  I’ll sing it to you tonight once we’re nice and full from our dinner,” Jim promised with a grin.  He put his sunglasses back on as the lift doors opened.  Escorting John out to the taxi, he sat down and told the driver, “The Savoy Hotel.”

    “Oh, Christ, are you-- Are you sure?” John whispered, squeezing his hand. “That’s… nice. Like, really, really nice.” Any restaurant there was way out of any normal person’s price rang.  Of course, Jim couldn’t be considered normal.

    Jim grinned.  “But I’m not done yet,” he responded, unable to contain himself.  He couldn’t wait to see John’s reaction to his next bit of news.  “Because I got us a room for the night there, too.”

    “Oh, my God! That’s amazing!” John threw his arms around Jim’s neck and squeezed him, laughing and kissing his cheek. “I promise you, we’re going to have a perfect evening!  It won’t go to waste, I swear. It’s - God - it’s going to be magical!”

    Laughing, Jim tugged John into his lap and kissed him affectionately.  “It will be.”  More than anything, he didn’t want it to be like their last dinner.  He needed to prove to John that they were meant to be together.

    Kissing him back, John beamed up at him and touched his jaw. “Thank you. Thank you so much for this. This is exactly how I imagined this. _Us_.”

    “I’m sorry you didn’t get this sooner,” Jim whispered before running his fingers through John’s hair.  “This isn’t what I wanted for us, you know.”  He then paused.  “I-I mean us being parted for so long.  It wasn’t right.”

    “I know. But when we started this, I knew you would have to work, and I wouldn’t get to see you often.  Even knowing, though, I didn’t expect it to hurt so much. And I was so worried, and we fought... but it’s going to be alright now. I’ll _talk_ to you now when things are wrong.”

    Smiling, Jim pressed their foreheads together.  “Yeah, it will be.”  He ghosted his lips over John’s and sighed softly.  “I love you so much.”

    “I love you, too, more than anything. Oh!” John pulled out his phone. “I told you I would, so…” Under Jim’s watchful eye, John deleted Harry’s number from his contacts’ list.

    Jim’s heart swelled.  John had done that for him with the minimum amount of fuss possible.  Somehow, that spoke more to Jim than all of their other experiences combined.  After all, John was almost blindly loyal to his sister.  But now?  Now, he was _Jim’s_.  “You’re the best.”

    “Oh, no, you are.” John leaned in and kissed Jim’s forehead, smiling gently. “It wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be.”

    “Wasn’t it?” Jim pressed, surprised.

    “Surprisingly, no. I guess having you here reminded me of what’s really important. That and everything else you said.”

    Jim couldn’t help but laugh.   _He_ was what was important for John?  It was more than enough for him, though.  After all, John was what was important in his life, too.  He just had yet to show as much.  “You’re sweet,” he whispered in John’s ear before nipping it.

    Giggling, John swatted playfully at him. “Damn right I am.”

    “Did you just swat me away?  Why I ought to…”  Without warning, Jim began to tickle John’s sides.

    “Hey!” John gasped, squirming in his lap. “Cut it out!” His laughter filled the taxi as he wriggled.

    Jim chuckled.  “You sound like you like it, though!” he teased before stopping.

    Laughing and gasping, John slumped against him. “’M ticklish, and you know it!”

    Jim wrapped John up in his arms.  God, he looked so precious there, panting and still experiencing post-tickling giggles.  “That might well be, but that just gives me all the more reason to tickle you, doesn’t it?”

    “Th-that’s warfare!” John gasped, leaning against him. “I suppose I can’t stop you.”

    “Definitely not!”  Jim then jested, “But I suppose my _mercy_ will win out this time.  You’re very much welcome.”

    John leaned up and pecked his cheek as the giggles died out. “Thank you for being so _merciful,_ Daddy.”

    “You’re welcome, Johnny,” Jim murmured before pressing their foreheads together.  Suddenly, the vehicle stopped, and he looked out to see the Savoy Hotel.  “We’re here!”

    “Oh! Suppose I need to get up then,” John teased, sliding out of his lap. He climbed out of the taxi and waited for Jim to pay. Given the status of the place, he didn’t really feel right walking in alone.

    Once Jim paid the cabbie, he got out and wrapped an arm around John’s waist.  Upon entering the hotel, he immediately looked down at John’s face to absorb every reaction.walking  After all, it was by far the most regal place John could have ever seen, and Jim would never get over how John marvelled.

    As soon as they stepped through the doors, John’s jaw dropped. He stared around, utterly speechless. It wasmore gorgeous than he could have imagined. And he was _there._ With _Jim Moriarty._ John turned toward him, squeezing his hand in an attempt to convey everything he was feeling.

    Jim laughed.  “I thought you would like it,” he said before leading John through and over to the Savoy Grill.  “I met Gordon Ramsay once, you know.  Not nearly as shouty and far more polite.  I have a feeling that the producers push for him to scream a bit more for television ratings.  He’s lucky.  They’d sell our souls for ratings if they could, though.”

    “I never thought he _would_ be. I mean, he comes off as harsh but fair. Mike said it’s worse on the American shows.” Turning his attention back to the restaurant, John drank in the atmosphere with wide-eyed wonder. “God, Jim, this is incredible! I just - I have no words. Thank you! Thank you so much for bringing me here.” John blinked quickly as his vision threatened to blur. “It’s perfect.”

    “As if I would have brought you anywhere less than perfect,” Jim teasingly scoffed.  They were given a table in the back corner, out of the sight of possibly prying eyes.  As soon as they were handed menus, Jim scanned down the list.  “John, get whatever you so desire.  Think not of price, alright?”

    John took his seat, looking impressed. “Alright. I won’t.” He lifted his own menu, scanning the dinner options. His eyes kept coming back to the fillet. God, it sounded so good. A proper steak, soft and juicy… “That didn’t take long. I know what I want.”

    “Oh? Good!” Jim replied.  “The waitress is coming over now.”

    “Hello, my name is Janet, and I’ll be serving you tonight.  What can I get you to drink?”

    “We’re going to need a sommelier, but water would be fine.  Still.”

    Nodding, she wrote down the information.  “Appetizers?”

    “Steak tartare.  John, what do you want?”

    “A fillet, please.” His cheeks flushed, as if almost ashamed for ordering such an expensive dish. Unused to multiple courses in restaurants, his mistake went entirely over his head as he ordered.

    Jim paled slightly at the mistake.  Not wanting to embarrass John, he quickly remarked, “And the chowder as his starter.  Give him the ten ounce steak, too.  Medium rare.  As for me, I’ll have English rose veal cutlet.  Same specs as John’s.”  With that, Jim waved her away and smiled.  “There, that’s all done with.”

    “What’d I do wrong?” John asked the moment they were alone, noticing his hurried speech. Already worried he’d ruined their date, he glanced at the direction the waitress disappeared. What if Jim decided he couldn’t take John to nice restaurants after this? How badly had he fucked it up?

    Jim shook his head.  “You didn’t do anything wrong.  They just expect for you to buy more than just the entrée here is all.  Three course meal sort of thing, you know?” he filled in, hoping that would soothe John.

    “Oh… But what if I can’t finish that all?” John’s voice was filled with concern.

    Wincing, Jim replied, “Let’s just jump that hurdle if we get there.”

    John fell quiet and gave a little nod. Best to just let it go. He didn’t want a repeat of their _last_ dinner together, which had been a fiasco that he never really got over. The memory kept him grounded. He called upon it now as he waited for his drink.

    “Hey!” Jim exclaimed before beaming at John.  “Don’t you know?  You’re with Jim Moriarty.  You can do no wrong, as far as this staff is concerned.  I’ve met Gordon Ramsay, after all.”

    Somehow, John managed a small smile. “I’ll do better. I promise. This is just new to me. Every aspect of this lifestyle is completely alien.”

    “I know it is.  That’s why I covered for you before that waitress could make mountains out of molehills,” Jim informed him.  “You’ll get used to it soon enough.  I’m going to stuff you up every chance I get so we can get plenty of exercise later.”

    “Going to drag me to the gym if I get too round?”

    “More like to the bedroom,” Jim shot back with a devilish grin.

    “That sounds like much more fun,” John said, growing a little more relaxed under Jim’s playful teasing.

    Jim hummed.  “I thought you would agree,” he stated before reaching over and placing his hand over John’s.  They needed a change of topic to be sure.  “So what sort of blackmail material do you want on me?  I have all sorts of stories that you’re either going to hear now or when you meet my family.  Your choice.”

    “I’m going to meet your family?” John whispered, turning his palm over beneath Jim’s. “Well, you could tell me about all the times you snuck out of the house or maybe the worst outfit your parents ever put you in.”

    “Of course you’re going to meet my family!  My parents wouldn’t have me marrying someone they hadn’t met,” Jim remarked, scoffing.  “In any case, let’s see…”  He paused a moment and thought back.

 _Marriage._ John’s heart froze in his chest as he looked at Jim, barely registering the din of the restaurant around them. Would Jim _really_ want to spend his life with him? This was _real._ Jim wanted him. They were making their relationship work. And, some day, John would be his husband. His heart pounded in his ears, roaring louder with each passing second. How had he gotten so lucky, especially after such a rocky start?

    Not noticing John’s state, he finally landed on a memory that he was willing to share.  “Halloween one year, my mother decided she wanted to do a theme for the family.  So what did she choose?  Not something cool like Alice in Wonderland or the Addams family.  No, no.  We were a BLT sandwich with my mother and father as the slices of bread, and I was - wait for it!”  He gave a dramatic pause.  “The tomato.”

    “Tomato? Oh, God, I’m so sorry!”

    “I know, right?” Jim responded, oblivious to John’s internal thoughts.  “Not even a slice either!  A full, round tomato.  It was embarrassing!”

    “Do pictures of this adorable Halloween exist?”

    Jim groaned.  “They do.  In a collection of other embarrassing Halloween pictures.  It’s horrific.  Honestly.”

    “I bet it’s amazing. I can’t wait to see them.”

    Smiling, Jim rubbed John’s palm with his thumb.  He wanted to get to know more about John, but he doubted that John had as many good memories as he did.  Thus, he strayed away from talking about John’s family.  “What about you and your friends?  You are still young.  You must have done something ridiculous, too.”

    “Oh, fuck, um… Well, there was the time Tom stole his dad’s vodka, and we got drunk in the park. Had to run from the police because someone called us in for being ‘too loud’. We ended up making it back to Tom’s, but it took us a good five hours. We were _convinced_ that if we took the slowest route ever, they’d never catch us.”

    Jim laughed.  “And it worked?”

    “Well, we didn’t get arrested, so I’d say so. But, oh, the blisters on our feet! We couldn’t walk right for a week!”

    “Good to know,” Jim teased.  Their appetizers came just after John spoke, and Jim had to pull back his hand.  “Have you ever had steak tartare?”

    John shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”

    With that, Jim spread some of it onto a piece of bread and offered it to John.  “Here.  Try.”

    John eyed it carefully as he took it from Jim. “Always love trying new things,” he whispered to himself before taking a bite. He considered it as he chewed. Not bad, he supposed, but not really to his tastes. “Not sure if I’m a fan, but it’s not bad. My taste might just be too mundane to truly appreciate it.”

    “That’s fair enough,” Jim remarked before spreading more.  “Maybe your chowder will be more to your tastes.”

    “Oh, I don’t doubt it.” John smiled at him and took a spoonful of soup, closing his eyes as he slipped it into his mouth. Warm and full of flavour, it was one of the richest foods he’d ever tasted. Or so he’d wager. “Mmn… I like this.”

    “Good!” Jim exclaimed happily before returning to his starter.  He had ordered it out of curiosity, but in the end, he decided he wasn’t a fan of it either.  “Well, that was… interesting.”  He pushed his dish away slightly before watching John intently.

    John finished his soup and pushed his bowl away, smiling. “Interesting is better than boring, at least.”

    “Fair enough,” Jim noted.

    “So, another story-swap?”

    Jim asked, “What about?”

    “Mmn, I don’t know. Embarrassing dates maybe?”

    “Well, I started last time, so you have to start this time,” Jim remarked.

    Rolling his eyes, John settled back and began to think. “I tried to hook up with a girl in my biology class. Of course, I didn’t know that she preferred women, and I ended up asking her out in front of the whole class. Well, I say _I_ didn’t know, but the truth was that no one knew. She wasn’t out. Even so, she ended up agreeing, and then when I showed up at her house, she told me the truth and asked me to cover for her and her girlfriend. I did, and we all went out together. I spent the whole night as a third wheel.”

    “That was kind of you,” Jim stated, smiling at John.  “It seems that you have always been considerate of others.”

    “Yeah, well, someone’s got to be, right?”

    Jim shook his head.  “Someone doesn’t have to be you,” he pointed out.  “Don’t dismiss this quality you possess.  It’s one that many will envy.   _I_ envy it.  I envy you.”

    John blinked up at him. “You… envy _me_? For being a nice bloke? Why?”

    “Because I’m not one?  Because that’s always kept me from having friends?” Jim suggested.  “Because I’m sure I wouldn’t have done as many terrible things in my life if I had a bit of compassion?”  He smiled at John.  “You should have seen yourself with your friends, Johnny.  You looked happy, they looked happy, and I could tell that you all were having a blast.  I’ve never had that.”

    “I want to give you that,” John whispered. “I want you to be _that_ happy.”

    Jim smiled.  “That’s because you’re considerate,” he teased before bringing John’s hand to his lips and kissing it.

    “It’s because I love you,” John corrected him, remembering his offhand remark about marriage.

    Jim beamed, but their entrées arrived before he could say anything.  He let John’s hand go before picking up his knife and fork.  “Alright, are you ready for the best meal of your life?”

     “Yes, I believe I am.” He carved into his steak, watching Jim with a small smile as he lifted the bite to his lips.

    Bouncing slightly in his chair, Jim waited impatiently for John to take his first bite.  “How is it?  Is it good?  Do you like it?”

    John chewed, lashes falling closed as the juicy meat touched his tongue. “Oh, fuck, yes,” he breathed, swallowing his bite. “This is… Oh, my God!”

    Upon hearing that, Jim relaxed into his seat and began to eat his own food.  “Thank fuck for that.  If you didn’t love it, I was going to ask for my thirty quid back.”

    John nearly choked on his next bite, snorting at Jim’s comment. “You were?”

    “Oh, yeah.  I’m not going to pay good money for shite food!” Jim said before grinning at John.  “I’m a rockstar, John.  It’s practically in my job description that I throw fits.”

    “Fits I can handle so long they’re not aimed at me,” John replied, smiling back. “But that’s fine as long as you wouldn’t be mad at me for, I don’t know, not choosing the right meal.”

    Jim scoffed.  “As if I could ever be mad at you,” he chided.

    “That’s reassuring, actually,” John said with a small chuckle.

    Jim smiled before eating his meal in silence.  He enjoyed eating, especially after he was placed on strict diets in order to keep his body firm and fit.  Nothing could make one appreciate food more than a diet.  Once he was done, he groaned and sat back.  “Dessert is going to have to fit inside my stomach somewhere, because I’m not about to pass it up,” he remarked with a grin.  “How about you?  Got enough room to split something with me?”

    When his steak was finally gone, John hummed happily and glanced up at Jim. “Dessert? Oh, always. You know me. I’ve got a sweet tooth.” Even as full as he felt, John knew he’d have room for a treat.

    “Alright, you choose, and I’ll eat whatever you get,” he remarked.

    “Um… Is the strawberry cheesecake alright with you, or should we go dark chocolate fondant?”

    Jim grinned.  “Why not get both and split them?”

    “Oh, God, you spoil me. I love it! Both, then.”

    Jim ordered both desserts, and they didn’t have to wait long at all for them to be brought out.  “Which should we try first?” he asked John.

    “The fondant. You first.”

    Jim picked up his spoon and took a bite.  It was deliciously rich, and he bit back a moan of satisfaction.  Then he pretended to gag, and he gasped out, “D-don’t eat!  Definitely poisoned.  I will s-sacrifice my life for you!”  With that, he quickly took another two scoops.

    Giggling, John swatted at his hand. “Oi! You liar!” He hurried to steal a bite.

    “No, John!  The p-poison!” Jim gasped out jokingly before he chuckled as well.

    Each bite coaxed pleased hums from John, and he bumped his foot against Jim’s under the table. “I appreciate the sacrifice, though.”

    “Obviously, not enough,” he teased before trying the strawberry cheesecake.  “Oh, this is poisoned, too.  You should definitely not eat it.”

    “At this rate, I won’t get to have any treats! Someone should fire the cook for poisoning everything.”

    Jim beamed before offering John some as well.  “Well, it’s your life on the line here.”

    John leaned across the table and licked the cheesecake off the fork. “Oh, it’s worth it for this. Jesus.”

    “Oh, so what?  You’re now saying that you’re willing to sacrifice yourself for me?  Copycat,” Jim teased.

    “No, I’m saying I’m willing to risk my life to taste something this divine! Though, you’re a close second.”

    Jim gaped at him.  “Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame!  Darling, you give love… a bad name!” he sang out.

    John couldn’t hold back his laughter, and he erupted into a fit of giggles. “Oh, there’s a dead giveaway! Everyone’s going to recognize you now! God, you’re bloody ridiculous!”

    “The one who’s causing a commotion is you, not me,” Jim remarked, unable to keep himself from laughing as well.  “What with your boisterous laugh!  You’ll draw over everyone’s attention with it.  It should be illegal for you to be so cute.”

    “Maybe when you’re king, you can make it so,” John joked. “Keep me locked up all day for it.”

    Jim ate another bite of strawberry cheesecake.  “Now, there’s a thought,” he murmured to himself.  He then placed his fork down.  “Finish up so I can pay, and then you get to see our room.”

     _Their_ room. Yes, John wanted that. If it was anything like the last room they shared, he knew it’d leave him speechless. He finished his slices and nodded to Jim. “Yes, sir. Ready whenever you are.”

    Jim paid the bill, not letting John see the total, and rose to his feet.  They headed to the lobby and over to the receptionist.

    “How can I help you tonight, sir?” she inquired.

    Jim answered, “I’m checking in.”

    “Name?”

    “Richard Brook,” Jim responded.

 _Richard Brook._ John froze, staring up at him. _Richard Watson._ It was the worst possible correlation John could have made. Jim was nothing like his father, but the alias chilled him to his very core. It terrified him. He squeezed Jim’s hand tightly, going rigid beside him. _Don’t ruin the evening,_ John told himself. _Don’t let this ruin what little time you have together._ Still, it was hard to shake his discomfort.

    JIm felt the change.  “John?” he called out, worried.  “John, what’s wrong?”

    “Here’s your room key, sir,” the receptionist stated before handing it over.

    Jim took it absentmindedly, not turning away from John.  Something was wrong, and he needed to fix it.

    “That’s my father’s name,” he whispered. “Richard. It’s just an alias - I know that - but it really makes me... uncomfortable.”

    Jim paled.  “I’m so sorry,” he responded before wrapping John up in his arms.  Jesus Christ, what had he just done?  “It’s just a play on words.  That’s all.  I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to-”

    John swallowed and shook his head. “It’s fine. Let’s just get to the room.”

    “Shaking your head whilst saying that it’s fine is contradictory, you know,” Jim noted as he led John over to the lifts.

    “I’ll be okay once I can hold you.”

    Jim nodded.  “We’ll be up to the room soon,” he whispered before hitting the button.  Even so, he kept his arm around John’s shoulders, needing to comfort him somehow.  Although it was merely a coincidence, Jim felt like an arsehole for reminding John of his father.

    John leaned into him on the ride up, quiet and reserved. Clearly lost in thought and troubled, he had nothing to say. _Richard…_ In a way, he found it funny that a name could carry such powerful connotations. Jim didn’t choose it to spite him. It was a coincidence, and John knew that, but it still unsettled him.

    The doors opened, and Jim led John down to their room.  Once they were inside, Jim kissed the top of John’s head.  “Do you like it?”  He hoped that the room would distract John from the darker thoughts about his father.

    As soon as they were inside, John turned around to inspect the room. “Oh… Oh, yes. God, yes. This is the nicest room I’ve ever seen. Thank you, Daddy - um - Jim.”

    Jim heard John correct himself, and he frowned.  He must have done a number on him.  Picking John up, he carried him over to the bed and tangled them up together.  Then he began to shower John with as many affectionate kisses as he could.

    John blinked up at him, smiling gently. Each soft kiss was like a balm, chasing away his dark memories. “I like that,” he whispered. “I really do.”

    “Like what?”

    “Your kisses.”

    Jim beamed before kissing him once more.  “I’m glad you enjoy them.  It would be pretty awkward if you didn’t, don’t you think?”  With that, Jim ran his fingers through John’s hair.

    “Mmn, yes. Lucky for us, though, they’re my favourite thing in the world.”

    “And here I thought my cock would definitely be your favourite thing in the world,” Jim teased, knowing it would make John flustered.

    John flushed scarlet and wrapped his arms around Jim’s neck. “Favourite innocent thing then.”

    “Do you want to hear it?” Jim breathed out, staring deep into John’s eyes.

    “Hear what?” John asked, a little confused.

    “Your song.  Our song.”

    John grinned up at him. “Yes, Daddy. Please.” With his mood and shock lightened by Jim’s attentions, he had no issues using the title once more.

    Jim paused a moment before finding the first note.  Nervous, he averted his eyes.  What if John didn’t like it?  What if he thought it was silly and poorly-worded as Magnussen had.  After all, Jim had dedicated hours of his time and copious amounts of effort into creating this song, and that made it all the more difficult.  If John didn’t like it, Jim would have to give up being a rockstar then and there.  Sucking in a deep breath, he began to sing softly.

 _“You came into my life,  
_ _Like a brilliant comet in the nighttime sky.  
_ _Although I could see you,  
_ _You were too far away for me to reach.  
_ _Now, I’m tongue-tied,  
_ _Standing in the dark,  
_ Wondering if I’ll ever see you again.

_Because if we are all made of stardust,  
_ _You shined the brightest.  
_ _But I never had a chance - not in the slightest.  
_ _Because someone like me could never hope to catch your attention.  
_ _I'm sorry for my misapprehension.  
_ _The fault is in our stars.  
_ _We the star-crossed lovers._

_The beauty of a life  
_ _Is all the mysteries that you discover.  
_ _You were my greatest one,  
_ _But now your light is fading from my mind.  
_ _The darkness swells  
_ _Eating me alive.  
_ And though I scream your name, you don’t reply.

__ _Because if we are all made of stardust,  
_ _You shined the brightest.  
_ _But I never had a chance - not in the slightest.  
_ _Because someone like me could never hope to catch your attention.  
_ _I'm sorry for my misapprehension.  
_ _The fault is in our stars.  
_ _We the star-crossed lovers._

_Will you ever return?  
_ _Do you know I’m still waiting for you?  
_ _For you.  
_ _You said it was taboo,  
_ _But I can’t stop dreaming about you tonight.  
_ _So come back home,  
_ _I’m waiting for you.  
_ _Because I know that you need me, too.  
_ _Don’t you know?_

_Because if we are all made of stardust,  
_ _You shined the brightest.  
_ _But I never had a chance - not in the slightest.  
_ _Because someone like me could never hope to catch your attention.  
_ _I'm sorry for my misapprehension.  
_ _The fault is in our stars.  
_ _We the star-crossed lovers._

_Are we star-crossed lovers?”_  

    Jim sang, looking away as if embarrassed, while John bit his lip and let his lilting, haunting voice carry him away. By the time he finished, John was in tears, holding to his shirt as though it were a lifeline. “Oh, my God. Jim, it-it’s perfect.”

    Finally, Jim gained the courage to look back over at John.  He was shocked.  “O-oh, God, Johnny, don’t cry!” he objected, kissing John lovingly.  “Please don’t cry.”

    Humming, John kissed him back, tangling his fingers in his hair. “It’s beautiful,” he breathed. “I love you. I love you so much.”

    “I love you, too, Johnny-boy,” Jim whispered.  He locked their legs together and tugged John onto him.  Running his fingers through John’s hair, he hummed happily.  Somehow, he felt complete with John on top of him.

    Twined together and locked in Jim’s embrace, John felt like he was finally _home._ This was where he belonged - listening to the steady beating of Jim’s heart, his own thrumming in response, with no one to interrupt them. Together, as one.

    Jim looked down at John and was stunned into silence.  Something about John calmed Jim.  Having him in his arms placed Jim at ease.  Honestly, John was a picture.  His blond hair was ruffled, his stomach poking out slightly in its filled state, and his blue eyes glassy and bright.  Heart hammering in his chest, Jim allowed his fingers to run through John’s hair soothingly.  He had forgotten how lovely it was to have John in his arms.  He forgot how wonderful it was to wake up to find John with him.  Staring down at John, he wondered how he managed to give it up even for a moment.  He felt a realisation wash over him: he couldn’t give this up again.  Obviously, John needed him just as much as he needed John.  Kissing the top of John’s head, Jim merely held him close.

    “I love you,” John whispered, leaning into his touch. “You’re everything to me, Daddy, and this was the perfect date. I want it to be like this all the time.”

    Jim knew what he needed to do.  “It will be, John,” he whispered before looking up at the white ceiling.  “It will be.” 


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's machinations come to a head, paving the way for a future with John by his side. His star has fallen, but that isn't the end for him-- now he and John can start again, with the future bright before them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the grand finale.

   Nothing compared to the sensation of waking up in Jim’s arms. John stirred around noon, his cheek resting on Jim’s bare chest as the sunlight peeked through the curtains. Last night had been heavenly, filled with soft kisses and giggles as they flipped through the channels on the telly. They fell asleep around two, side by side, and sometime during the night, John had wrapped himself around Jim. It was the date he always wanted - no sorrow, no black moods, no arguments - just an evening filled with laughter and love spent in the warm embrace of his idol. Jim was the man he loved - the man he _worshipped._ And somehow, he loved John back. Everything was absolutely perfect.

    “No,” Jim groaned out as he felt John begin to move.  He had woken up earlier that day, but used John as an excuse to stay in bed.  After all, nothing could be as perfect as having John wrapped up in his arms.  When John woke up, he would have to rise and face the new day with all of its consequences.  Despite having come to terms with what he must do, Jim still wasn’t looking forward to it.  “Go back to sleep.”

    “No?” John whispered, kissing his chest. “Well, I _suppose_ I could be persuaded to stay in bed.” He let out a quiet chuckle and settled back down against him, listening to his heartbeat.

    Humming, Jim rolled them over until he crushed John under his weight instead.  “Stay,” he grunted.

    “That’s a compelling argument, Daddy. Alright, I’ll stay.” Giggling, John wrapped his arms around Jim’s back and held him close.

    Jim was now, unfortunately, cold.  He tried his best to warm up, and his solution wound up being tangling himself up with John as best as he could.  Soon, their legs were linked together, his face buried in John’s neck, his arms wrapped around John’s waist, and his hands slipped slightly into John’s pants to stay warm.  “Good boy,” he slurred out.

    “Oh, better be careful. If you keep that up, I’ll never let you leave this bed.” Between the sleepy praise and the hand currently resting just above his cock, John was tempted to coax Jim into proper consciousness by shifting his hips into his palm. In the end, he stayed still, letting Jim relax against him.

    Jim chuckled.  “I have enough money that that could be a feasible claim,” he commented before kissing John’s neck lazily.  “You smell like comfort.”  His brain still hadn’t come around fully for him to make coherent sentences.  Therefore, in Jim’s mind, he had just paid John one of the highest compliments known to man.

    John let out a soft hum and leaned his head back, baring more skin for more kisses. “Do I? Thank you, Daddy. That’s sweet of you to say. You feel like home.”

    Jim purred against John’s skin.  “I am home,” he replied.  Immediately, he latched onto John’s neck, misinterpreting its bareness, and began to suck love bites all across it.  “You are home.”

    The bites coaxed a groan from John’s lips and he pressed against Jim, lashes fluttering closed as he savoured the sensation. “Yes. God, yes, you are. And I am. You’re all I need, Jim. My home, my life, my _world.”_

    “You’re my universe,” Jim countered teasingly as he began to rouse himself.  He would sleep all day on top of John if he could, but there was a schedule to be kept.  “What time is it?”

    “Noon,” John answered, running his hands down Jim’s smooth back. “Now I don’t want you to go.”

    Jim hummed before slowly finding John’s lips and kissing him chastely.  “Well, this is a bit of a conundrum since neither of us want to move, but we have to.”

    “Alright, alright. Get up before this goes any further,” John grumbled, though the smile on his lips contradicted the tone in his voice.

    Groaning, Jim slumped onto John.  “Make me,” he muttered childishly, trying not to giggle.

    John grinned and gave him a light slap on the arse. “Get up.”

    “Ooh, kinky,” Jim teased before rolling off.  In the process, he overestimated how much space he had, and he flailed as he started slowly falling off the bed.  “Johnny!  Save me!”

    John grabbed his arm and pulled him back, laughing as Jim righted himself. “I think saving you deserves a kiss, don’t you?”

    Grinning, Jim leaned forward.  “I _suppose_ you’ve earned a kiss,” he teased before kissing John softly.  Then he whispered against John’s lips, “Or maybe two.”

    “Two? Must be my lucky morning. I’ll gladly take two.”

    Jim chuckled before kissing John again, this time sucking on his lower lip and begging for entrance into his mouth.  “P-rr-ease?” he purred out, his words slurred by not removing his lips.

    It didn’t take much to convince John. He parted his lips for Jim and dug his fingertips into his back, letting out a sleepy little moan.

    Licking into John’s mouth, Jim hummed happily before pressing in closer.  He explored John’s mouth, reacquainting himself with it.  Slowly, he pulled back and smiled.  “God, I love you so much.”

    John was sad to lose his kiss. “I love you too, Jim. You are so amazing.”

    “Well, to keep the spirit of that going, you need to shower.  We have someplace to be,” Jim explained vaguely, his grin turning mischievous.

    “We do?” John asked, pushing himself up. As far as he knew, this was a date to appease him. Jim hadn’t mentioned other plans.

    Jim nodded.  “Yes, we do,” he replied before pressing their foreheads together.  “So go wash up, you smelly boy.”

    John sighed and wriggled out from under him. “Yes, sir.” He headed for the bathroom, stripping as he walked just to be a tease.

    Instantly, Jim knew what John was doing.  “Rude!” he shouted, chucking a pillow at John’s arse.

    The soft pillow thumped against him, and John let out a sharp giggle, racing into the bathroom before Jim could find more ammunition.

    Jim threw another pillow, which bounced off the bathroom door.  He laughed himself before rising to his feet and grabbing his mobile phone.  Looking at the door, he felt the same determination from last night rise once more.  He knew what needed to be done.

    It’s a lovely day out. -JM

    Indeed.  The sun is shining brighter than usual.  -SM

    Today is a good day. -JM

    With that, Jim placed his mobile phone down.  Sebastian knew what that meant.  Looking at the bathroom door, Jim remembered the scars left on John’s soft skin from his father’s rage.  Today was be the day John would know what it means to be free.

    In the confines of the shower, John hummed the song Jim wrote for him as he scrubbed his skin clean. Whatever Jim had planned, he wanted to look nice for. He lathered and conditioned his hair, and as soon as his body was free from soap he turned off the water and toweled off. Naked, he padded into the bedroom and began to gather his clothes. That was going to be a problem, actually. “Um, Jim? I didn’t bring anything else to wear.”

    “That’s alright because I did,” Jim answered before opening the closet and removing a custom-made suit.  He forced himself to ignore the state that John was in.  Laying it out on the bed, he remarked, “It’s a Westwood.  Do you like it?”

    “That’s- Oh, my God. I-I can wear that? Really?” The suit alone had to cost more than anything John had owned in his entire life. Before removing it from the cover, he let his fingers brush along the protective material.

    Jim laughed.  “Johnny, you’re the _only_ one who can wear that.  It’s tailor made to your measurements,” he explained before running his fingers through John’s hair.  “Try it out while I take a shower, okay?”  With that, he sauntered towards the bathroom, stripping as he walked in order to tease John.

    John stared after him, cocking his head to admire the view. He gave Jim an eager wolf-whistle before the door closed.

    A Westwood suit just for him. Blue, crisp, cleanly-tailored and made to fit his exact frame. It was the most expensive thing he’d _ever_ own if Jim planned to let him keep it. John pulled on his pants and got dressed, staring at himself in the full-length mirror. He looked damned good. It hugged every curve and plane of his body just right. John fastened the tie in place and sat on the bed to wait.

    Squeaky clean, Jim emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist and was stunned into silence.  “You look gorgeous,” he whispered, staring at John.  He had taken mental measurements their first night together, and he was spot-on with all of them.  “God, I am _good._ ”

    With Jim’s eyes on him, he rose and did a slow turn, showing off the outfit. “Looks that nice on me, does it?”

    “ _You_ look absolutely incredible,” Jim corrected before beaming at him.  “I knew it would look perfect on you.  It just pulls out your internal beauty and makes it external.”

    “So I wasn’t attractive _before_ the suit that likely cost more than a small house?” John teased, stepping closer to kiss his cheek.

    Jim hummed.  “I never said that,” he responded.  He pulled out his own suit and slowly got changed into it.  “How do I look?  Nowhere near as good as you, I know, but...”

    “Absolutely gorgeous, Jim, _Christ._ I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit, actually.”

    “No, it truly is an experience, isn’t it?” he teased before doing a twirl.  “You’ll be the perfect accessory to my arm, though.”  With that, he offered his arm for John to take.

    John laced their arms together. “Going somewhere fancy?”

    “The fanciest place you can imagine,” Jim replied.  “But it’s a surprise.  Come on.”  He then led John out of the room, almost unable to contain his excitement.

    Linked with Jim, John followed him to the lift. He couldn’t wait to find out where they were going. Lunch maybe? A meeting with Magnussen?

    A limo was waiting for them.  Opening the car door, the driver bowed his head.  “Mr Moriarty.  Mr Watson.”  Jim beamed back at him before motioning John to slip in first.  After all, for his plan to work, he needed to be the first one to step out of the vehicle.

    John climbed inside and scooted to the window. “Wow, you really went all out, Jim! This is just-! God, this is fantastic.” He let his eyes wander over the fine interior, including the mirrored roof and drink compartments.

    “You have no idea,” Jim whispered, beaming at John.  “You have to close your eyes now, okay?  I don’t want the surprise ruined.”

    “Alright,” John said with a smile. He closed his eyes and squeezed Jim’s hand.

    Jim bounced about excitedly as he waited for them to arrive at their destination.  The red carpet had already been rolled out hours before, and Jim took in a deep breath.  This was it.  If he went through with this, he knew there was no going back.  For a moment, he hesitated.  He looked back at John and stared at him for a long time.  Was John, who had his eyes squeezed shut just to appease Jim, really worth the one thing Jim clung to his whole life?  Jim placed a kiss against John’s temple.  Yes, he was, Jim decided, and the limo door opened soon afterwards.  “Open your eyes, Johnny, and step into the spotlight,” Jim whispered before emerging from the car.  Fans screamed for his attention, and the flashes from cameras nearly blinded him for a moment.  By the time he looked back to see John, he had splotches blocking out part of his vision.

    At Jim’s insistence, John slipped out and opened his eyes. “Oh, my-” Paparazzi lined the walk as his feet came down on fine red carpet, snapping pictures of him and Jim. Fans screamed behind them, calling Jim’s name behind the flash of bulbs and the voices of the reporters. And in the midst of it all, Jim smiled down at him. This was his surprise. “Oh, my God,” John whispered. “You’re going public with me.”

    “Surprise!” Jim exclaimed, beaming.  He couldn’t get a proper read on John due to his impaired vision.  Thus, he had to ask, “Do you like it?  Do you?”  He prayed John liked it and wasn’t mad for being suddenly outed as interested in blokes.

    “It’s- Jim, I’m… You’re about to make me the luckiest man in the world. Of _course,_ I like it!” He beamed up at Jim, tears in his eyes. “This means everything to me. I’m-! But, what about your career? What if they crucify you?”

    Jim shook his head.  “John, you made me realise something yesterday.  I asked you to make me the number one thing in your life, and you did without even hesitating.  However, I kept my career before you.  I refused to make you my number one as well.  And it cost us both so much time that we could have been enjoying.  Last night, I came to the understanding that you _are_ the _most_ important person in my life, and I am willing to sacrifice anything and everything to ensure that you get everything you deserve.  They will crucify me, but as long as I have you at my side, John Watson, I will be happy.”

    He couldn’t stop the tears that ran down his cheeks at Jim’s confession. “I love you. God, Jim, I love you so much. And this is, this is the greatest-. C-can I take your hand? Your arm? Can I touch you?”

    “Not until I do this,” Jim murmured before pulling John close.  He beamed at him before swinging him around and dipping him.  This was something Magnussen wouldn’t be able to cover up or put a spin on.  In front of all of the reporters, he kissed John.  For that moment, the world was silent.

    There they were. John wrapped in Jim’s arms, being dipped before the crowd and kissed while the cameras flashed and people gasped. John was _Jim’s_ , and now the whole world would know it. No more hiding. No more disguises. No more time apart. John let out a little laugh, giggling against his lips. “Thank you. Fuck, thank you so much.”

    Jim laughed as well, feeling more relieved than he had ever before.  Pulling John up, he pressed their foreheads together.  “Do you hear that?” he whispered.  “It’s the calm before the storm.”

    As soon as those words passed his lips, interviewers had descended upon them.  Jim wrapped one possessive arm around John in order to keep him from being taken away by an eager reporter wanting to get the first one-on-one scoop.  Question after question was fired off, and Jim’s experience helped keep him from becoming overwhelmed.

    “How long have you been hiding your sexuality?” one reporter shouted.

    Jim smiled.  “I haven’t been at all.  You all must have heard about my rendezvous with fans of both sexes.  Some preferred to pretend that certain ones didn’t happen, particularly my manager, but there were whispers that most of you heard and some even reported on.”

    “How long have you two been together?” another one exclaimed.

    “Hmm, well, I’m afraid that poor reporter who interviewed me back my relationships a while back was the first one to stumble across my new status, although I did my best to not lie to her.”

    Another reporter shoved his microphone even closer.  “Why not reveal this earlier?”

    “As I stated previously, I am fiercely protective of my private life and those I love.  I wanted to ensure that we were both ready to deal with the outcomes of our relationship together, and we also wanted some time to just be together first and not worry about the media’s interpretation of our relationship.  Let me assure you, however, that I am very happy, and I will not tolerate any threats or harassment directed towards either of us.”

    “Aren’t you worried about your fans?”

    Scoffing, Jim remarked, “I believe in my fans far more than you do, I am afraid.  I know my music will still sell to those who truly enjoy my songs.”

    “Name!  We haven’t gotten his name yet!” someone realised.

    Jim beamed.  “Ah, yes, what a shame.  Too bad I need to sign some autographs and don’t have any more time to answer questions.  Come along now!”  With that, Jim escorted John away.  Several reporters trailed after them, but he didn’t mind.  They wouldn’t get anything out of him anyway.

    Overwhelming didn’t even begin to cover the flood of questions and reporters. John flushed deeply. He knew he wasn’t the first, of course, but hearing Jim admit it made him more than a little uncomfortable. He tried to ignore it as Jim led him towards the building. He hadn’t given up his name, at least. No one would track him. No one would tell his parents. Even with Jim’s coming out, John was anonymous. All eyes were on Jim.

    “You alright?” Jim whispered as he led John closer to the fans.  Two guards flanked them in the process.  “Stay out of arm’s reach of them.  Some get a bit grabby.”

    “God, they’re not gonna stone me, are they?” John asked, ignoring his question.

    Jim laughed.  “No, no.  Only because they didn’t come prepared,” he teased before taking the Sharpie that was handed to him.  He then look John square in the eyes and asked once more, “John, are you alright?”

    “Hm? Yeah, I’m fine,” John answered, holding his gaze. “A bit jealous, which is stupid of me. I’ll get over it. It’s not like I have any room to talk.”

    “Jealous?” Jim asked, shocked.  After everything he had done, John was _jealous_?  “Wh-why?”

    “Well, I’m not your first groupie. I mean, I _knew_ that, but hearing it aloud just wakes something ugly in me. Makes me - you know - jealous.”

    Jim nodded.  “For what it’s worth, you will be the last person I ever have sex with,” he murmured before turning to his fans and beginning to sign whatever he could.  In the process, he hoped to leave John to his thoughts and - he further hoped - allowed him to be reassured in Jim’s words.

    “I know,” he murmured. That would do. The jealousy was unbecoming and irrational, but John couldn’t help himself. He kept close to Jim, always touching him just in case a fan tried anything fresh. Jim had given up everything for him. He didn’t need to be his first, just his last.  

    After signing all he could, Jim took John’s hand and led him down the red carpet and into the building.  He paused a moment before smiling.  “It’s strange to think that’s the last time I’ll be doing that.  It almost makes me… nostalgic,” he commented, not knowing where this trail of thought would lead him.  “I suppose it always gets that way when you close a chapter of your life.  I’ll look back on everything with fondness.”  Then he turned to face John.  “But I will be far happier with you by my side.”

    Closing a chapter of his life. Jim had fought for his career and to sacrifice all that just for him? Was that really what Jim wanted? He squeezed Jim’s hand and stepped closer to him, eager to make sure that this - _they_ \- was the right choice. “Jim? Are you sure that I can make you happy?”

    “Oh, Johnny,” Jim crooned before running his fingers through John’s hair, “if I doubted that for even a second, we wouldn’t be here.”

    John leaned into the touch, letting a smile spread across his lips. “I love you, Jim, and I just want to make sure you’ll be happy like this. God, I bet Twitter’s already going mad over the live coverage!” He giggled and turned his face up to Jim. “Let’s go take our seats. This is just- Thank you, Jim.”

    “Johnny, you got to stop thanking me for doing something I should have done a long time ago,” Jim chided before kissing him softly.  Then he whispered in John’s ear, “Hey, I love you.”

    That intimate whisper is all John needed. He wrapped his arm around Jim’s waist and followed him, aware of all the eyes upon them. Everyone could stare all they wanted. He was the luckiest man in the world, and he had no intention of hiding it.

    Right before they reached their seats, they were intercepted by a stranger.  At first, Jim thought that he might be a reporter here to get the exclusive interview.  The flash of a badge proved him otherwise, and Jim’s breath stopped.

    “John Watson?” the officer called out.  “My name is Sebastian Wilkes.  I’m with New Scotland Yard.  I need to speak with you about a personal matter.  Is there somewhere we could go?”

    Jim quickly chipped in, “There’s a conference room upstairs that should be empty.”

    Wilkes nodded.  “Then take me to it.”

    Taking in a deep breath, Jim escorted both John and the officer out of the room and to the lifts.

    “Police?” John asked, clearly confused. He followed them to the empty conference room a few floors above the award ceremony. To his knowledge, he hadn’t done anything wrong, but the presence of Officer Wilkes twisted his stomach into a knot regardless. Could it possibly be about his association with Jim?

    Wilkes turned to face John.  “I think you should sit down for this,” he stated, obviously keeping his voice calm and soothing.

    At that, John took a seat in one of the chairs, looking up at him with worry evident on his features. “What’s, um, what’s this about, Officer?”

    “I’m sorry to inform you that your father was murdered this morning,” Wilkes stated.

    Jim feigned surprise at the news, and he quickly touched John’s shoulder in order to comfort him.

    John stared up at him, mouth hanging open as he processed the words. “M-murdered? No, that’s impossible. H-he couldn’t- Oh, my God, you’re serious, aren’t you? What happened?” As he spoke, he covered Jim’s hand with his own, seeking the relief his soothing touch brought.

    “Our investigation this morning has brought us to two culprits,” Wilkes explained.  “I’m sorry to say that it seems your mother and sister were behind the murder.  We found incriminating emails on the home computer, and we’re currently searching your sister’s flat.”  With that, he paused.  “Do you know of any reason as to why they would want your father dead?”

    “Harry? No, they couldn’t! My mother wouldn’t hurt a fly. She wouldn’t even stand up to him when he-” John trailed off, shaking his head. “No, neither of them could have done it. My father was a drunk, and he had a temper, sure, and he’s done some horrible things to all of us, but even then none of us ever stood up to him. I don’t understand…”

    Jim felt his heart sink as he heard that.  He couldn’t have suspicion thrown on the case.  Not after everything that he had done.  “People change, of course,” he noted before placing both of his hands on John’s shoulders and giving them a comforting squeeze.  “Perhaps once you moved out, all the abuse turned to your mother, and she finally felt the need to act.  Perhaps she snapped and couldn’t take it anymore?”

    “This was premeditated.  The poison used was placed into his alcohol,” Wilkes stated.  “I’m sorry, but the emails are decisive evidence even without their pleas.”

    “Are you going to arrest them?”

    “Yes,” Wilkes stated.  “And I will have you know that the defense’s council will call you onto the stand should this go to trial.”

    “Unacceptable,” Jim objected.  “Either the prosecutor or the defense will tear him apart up there.”

    Wilkes nodded.  “Which is why we need to know some things _now_ rather than later.”

    John swallowed. “I’ll help in any way I can.”

    “When was the last time your mother or your sister contacted you?” Wilkes inquired, pulling out a notebook.

    “I haven’t talked to Harriet since Mr. Moriarty’s London concert. She drove me and moved out while I was in town. The last time I saw my mother was - um - I moved about a month ago. That was the last I saw of her.”

    “And have you sent them emails?  Text messages?” Wilkes pressed.  “I need to know if you’ve had any form of communication with them.”

    Quickly, Jim cut in, “Don’t try to trap him.  You could see from his face that he didn’t know about their plans to murder his father.”

    “No one’s trying to trap anyone, Mr Moriarty.”

    “I don’t even have their numbers in my phone,” John assured him. “I-I wanted to get away from them. Too many bad memories there. I didn’t know anything about this, I swear!”

    Wilkes raised a hand.  “I believe you,” he said before writing down a few more notes.  “Do you still stand by your statement that your mother and sister couldn’t have done this?  It seems that your sister was the driving force and that your mother merely used the poison given to her to lace his alcohol.  Is that truly impossible.”

    “John, think carefully about this one before you answer.  Everything you know doesn’t matter nearly as much as everything you don’t know,” Jim murmured.

    “I-” John looked up at Wilkes, steeling himself for his answer. “My father hated Harriet for coming out. He treated her like a pariah and called her and her girlfriend all sorts of names. Until I got big enough, she was his favourite target for drunken screaming and strikes. I just assumed she’d let it go when she moved out. But without me there, I guess he could have pushed her. He could have pushed my mum. He wasn’t a very _good_ man.”

    “You didn’t really answer my question,” Wilkes stated.  “‘Could have’ doesn’t help.  Do you or do you not think your mother and sister are capable of this crime?”

    Jim’s breathing stopped as he waited for John’s answer.

    “I think they’re capable,” John said quietly. Hell, even _he’d_ thought about it before. “And if you have the evidence then they did it, didn’t they?”

    Jim barely managed to keep himself from letting out a sigh of relief.  After all of this time and preparation, he couldn’t believe he had managed it.  Perhaps he should look into become a career criminal of sorts.  There was that Sherlock Holmes bloke who helped the police solve crimes.  Perhaps he could be his foil and help the criminals perpetrate theirs.

    Wilkes nodded and wrote down some final notes.  “The investigation is still in its infancy, so I will come back around to ask you further questions.  Could you please write down your current address and mobile number?”  With that, Wilkes ripped off a piece of paper from his notebook and handed it over with his pen.

    John scribbled his mobile number and looked up at Jim. “Well, I’m staying at a hotel right now. Um… should I write _that_ down?”

    “No,” Jim answered before taking the pen and beginning to write on the paper.  “This is my home address.  He will be here if you need him for further questioning.”  With that, he kissed the top of John’s head.

    John blushed and nodded. “Mm-hmm. That’s where I’ll be.”

    “Very well.  Thank you for your time, and I am sorry for your loss,” Wilkes stated before rising to his feet.

    As soon as he was out of the door, Jim knelt in front of John and took both of his hands into his own.  “How’re you feeling?”

    Jim’s touch brought him out of his stunned silence. “I-I don’t know. Relieved in a way. He deserved it.” And he did. Without a doubt, Richard Watson was one person John could look at and say he felt no remorse for their passing.

    Relaxing, Jim reached up and cupped John’s cheek.  “He did deserve it,” he whispered before kissing him softly.  “He deserved so much worse than that, too, for what he did to you.  At least now, you can rest easy, knowing he will never touch you again.”

    “Or anyone else,” John breathed. “Mum and Harry… God, I hope they’ll be alright.”

    Jim hadn’t expected that.  After all, John’s mother and sister had left him to the wrath of that man!  They didn’t deserve any more pity than his father.  Obviously, John was of a different mind.  Humming softly, he pulled John into a hug.  “They’ll be fine.  Your sister will be running the prison before you know it, and your mother’s far too sweet for anyone to harm.  Meanwhile, you’ll have me.  I know it’s not much of a consolation, but it is something.”

    “You’re all I need, Jim. You know that,” John breathed, burying his face in Jim’s jacket. “I’m so sorry. This was supposed to be _our_ night. I mean, I’ll sleep easier with him gone, but couldn’t they have _waited_?”

    Chuckling, Jim responded, “They’re investigating a murder.  The last thing they want is for you to learn about it on some news channel.”  He kissed the top of John’s head and just held him.  “Besides, it’s fitting.  We’re both shedding our former lives today.  I without my job and you without your family.”

    “That’s true.” John lifted his chin, looking up at Jim with slightly damp eyes. “I shouldn’t be so relieved, should I? I’m almost happy.”

    Jim shook his head.  “You can be whatever you want to be.  If you’re happy then be happy.  If you’re relieved then be relieved.  No matter what you feel, it’s alright.  You’re human.  There’s nothing wrong with feeling the way you do.”

    Despite the grave news of his father’s death, John let out a chuckle. _He was free._ No more nightmares. No more reason to look over his shoulder. Richard Watson was dead, and he would never have to deal with him again. The laughter escalated until John was doubled over and red in the face.

   Free.

   And free to be with Jim.

   “Should - should we…? The ceremony…” John gasped between giggles.

    “What?  You want to do something that boring after getting news like this?  No way.  This was always the worst part of my job anyway.  I have to sit around and pretend that I care about people who don’t give a toss about me either.  No, no, no.  We’re going to go home, turn on the comedy channel, get out a bottle of wine, and giggle away our first night officially together.  Then we’re going to go into my bedroom and have a drunken pillow fight because why the fuck not?  I’ve never had a pillow fight in my life, and I want you to be my first.  Then we giggle ourselves to sleep and take on the world in the morning.  I think that sounds far better.  What about you?”

    “Oh, my God,” John panted, finally straightening his back and turning to face Jim once more. “I would love that. Never had a pillow fight either. Why are we still waiting around here?” He grabbed Jim’s hand and tugged him toward the lifts, still grinning. This was the start of the rest of their lives, and even with the news of his father’s passing, John had never felt so ecstatic in all his life.

    Jim laughed as he stumbled behind John.  Honestly, he was shocked.  John Watson pierced through every barrier and obstacle Jim had placed up, and there was nothing that Jim Moriarty wouldn’t do for him.  He closed his eyes for but a moment and conjured John’s elated face before his mind’s eye.  Without a doubt, he would go through Hell and high water to see that look every single day.  Opening his eyes, he took in the sight before him.

    This was it: the reason for his whole life.  He couldn’t help but smile as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long journey for both of us with a lot of hard work and tears poured into this piece. We're so very proud of all our work, and we hope you enjoy it as much as we do.
> 
> Every kudos, subscription, and bookmark means the absolute world to us, and we hope you guys come back to this story again and again. It's been quite a ride, and we're both sad to see Jim and John go, but at least we're ending on a high note. They have the rest of their lives ahead of them with no more obstacles in their way to keep them from being together. Jim's got the start of his life of crime, and John has the start of his life by Jim's side...
> 
> What will happen to them?
> 
> In our eyes, only happiness. Darkness? Likely. John will change Jim, and Jim will change him in turn, but they will only grow closer. Marriage? A private house in the country? Maybe John will get a dog - he's always wanted one. Jim's found his new calling, in making problems disappear. It just might keep them well-provided for decades to come. No matter what you envision, though, know that they are together and nothing will tear them apart.
> 
> So with that, we close the curtains on our collaboration. Just as a chapter of Jim and John's life comes to a close, so does a chapter of ours. Thank you again for all of your support, past, present, and future!
> 
> We'd like to give a HUGE THANK YOU TO ALL OUR READERS, ANYONE WHO LEFT KUDOS, THE SUBSCRIBERS, THE BOOKMARKERS, AND ANYONE WHO DREW FANART!
> 
> And speaking of fanart... Have you checked these out?
> 
> [The First Night, by Fenrir-San](http://fenrir-san.tumblr.com/post/95105410798/johniarty-ix-it-was-true-john-was-sizeable-for) (NSFW)
> 
> [Mr Magnussen by Mona-The-Great](http://mona-the-great.tumblr.com/post/94639978518/here-i-tried-i-really-cant-draw-in-dc-marvel)
> 
> [John's Song, by HoneyMuff](http://honeymuffart.tumblr.com/post/95308770357/because-if-we-are-all-made-of-stardust-you)

**Author's Note:**

> Do not copy/duplicate.


End file.
